Of Dark Waters
by Spiral Flowers
Summary: Being a proper member of pureblood society isn't easy! It's all little codes, special rituals, and sacrifice. Aside from that, you need to be rich, cunning, and practically perfect. They might as well write 'Black Ancestry Required' on the application.
1. Of Life and Money

It was an altogether lovely afternoon in the countryside of England. It was late summer, August thirty-first, to be exact, and many children were squeezing in a final swim before the end of the season; but the children _we_ will be studying are not so common.

In the rather extravagant garden of a Wiltshire manor, several children wandered about, looking over albino peacocks and white, winged horses, as if they were something one saw every day. For these children, though, it was so.

They were at the top of the food chain in their own society; practically royalty, one might say. They were rich, powerful, and beautiful, with a name that implied all three.

Starting from the bottom, there was a ten year old, Walden MacNair. The MacNair boy was well-groomed and athletic, with rough hands and windswept hair, of a chestnut hue. His unusually tall frame and wide-shoulders set him apart from other boys his age, and his weather-beaten skin made him unique from the rest of the aristocracy. Both traits were gleaned from much time spent outdoors, both playing quidditch and dealing with the menagerie he kept. His family had ten million galleons worth of assets in business and real estate, and more money in the bank, as well as in stocks.

Next came a pair of boys, Sirius and Regulus Black, eight and five, respectively. Both had dark hair and eyes, and an evenly toned complexion. The older boy, though, kept his hair rebelliously long, and his shirt untucked. He loved causing others undue misery, but managed to be quite entertaining and creative while doing so. The younger had the crisp, humble look of an overly-mothered child, and straggled at the back of the group, as is all too common among hen-pecked youths. Regulus didn't enjoy much of anything, he simply did what was asked of him. Their parents held twelve million in their various assets, and had money to spare. The brothers also had the added bonus of a father who was a dynamo in politics, _and_ took great part in diplomacy.

Then there were three girls, as different in look as they were in personality. At ten, Bellatrix was the oldest, with dark, wavy hair and marvelous indigo-hued eyes. She was an echo of her father, and inherited his hidden cunning, but she was her own person, with an explosive temper to attest to the fact. In the middle was Andromeda, age eight. She was pretty, with light brown locks and bright, brown eyes, but her demeanor was ever wavering. She seemed completely inhibited and unsure of herself, and preferred to shy away from others. She instead made flower arrangements, or took tea with her mother. Her parents insisted she would make a lovely wife to some pure-blooded aristocrat, one day. Youngest of the three was Narcissa. At seven, she was lovely, with silky blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and skin as white as virgin snow: her parents vowed that she would be a terrible beauty once she aged. She kept rather quiet, unless provoked, and enjoyed picking flowers and holding tea parties with her cousin Regulus. The Black sisters enjoyed the benefit of a widely renowned socialite for a mother, an even better known business man for a father, and seventeen million galleons in real estate alone, with millions more in stocks, business, and the Gringotts vaults.

And at the top of the chain was Lucius Malfoy, the only heir to the Malfoy name. He was lovely for his age, with a frame just like his best mate, MacNair. His hands, however, were smooth, and his complexion fair. Also contrasting with his friend, the youngest Malfoy kept his blonde hair impeccably groomed, and his eyes were a piercing silver-blue, rather than a deep brown. Despite looking like the perfect spoiled little prince, he did hold a deep and unwavering passion for quidditch; in fact, he loved anything involving any sort of competition. The Malfoy family had an astounding twenty-two million galleons in real estate and business, and like the other families near their status, had enough money in the bank to finance a third-world country.

This little royal party finally settled around a small table towards the back of the gardens, in the shade of a magnificent old oak.

"Do you like it, then?" Lucius asked, looking at his guests curiously. He had only just given his group a tour of the manors new wing, which added another fifteen bedrooms, twelve baths, and five parlors to the hulking home. While they were at it, the Malfoys had also decided to purchase another five house elves, as well three foals to add to the herd of winged horses. If you're going to live big, you might as well live huge.

The children gave various nods and mutterings of consent. Though they all quite enjoyed the manor, and each others company, this was a rather tedious day for all of them. They had to endure the social escapades of their parents all too often, and on the last day of the summer, none of them were much in the mood to play along.

However, summer didn't mean much to them. None of the children would be attending any sort of magical academy this year, though they intensely desired an escape from home. They would have to endure another year before even the oldest among them could attend.

"Want some pastries?" Lucius muttered. A few nodded, and after a snap of the young host's fingers, a house elf appeared. "Get us something to eat, now." With that, the servant was gone.

A moment later, the creature appeared again, bowing low and setting a tray upon the table, piled high with delicacies such as sugared flowers, crystallized fruits, artful cupcakes, and petit fours. Sirius was all too quick to grab the cupcake with the most frosting, and hurl it at the elf. The children burst out in snickers as the creature disappeared, utterly humiliated. Bella grinned at her cousin and patted his arm, "You sure know how to treat them, Siri."

"Someone has to, right? Otherwise those stupid activists will ruin _all_ of our fun," he retorted, still cackling. With this, a fresh round of laughter started, as the group partook of the sweets. All too quickly, their parents were emerging, retrieving their children to return home. They bid friendly farewells to each other as they were whisked away, one by one, via side-along apparation.

But, they didn't have to wait long to see each other. The Blacks visited each other four or five times a week, as they were family, and their whole little group usually met at least once a week, sometimes with the addition of the Avery, Rosier, or Lestrange children. Each time would be different, though. Sometimes there were galas, sometimes there was sledding, sometimes quidditch, sometimes tea. Each time new memories were created. All too soon, though, the year was speeding up. Soon, Christmas was gone, then Valentines Day, then Easter, and suddenly, summer had come back; and all too quickly, Lucius, Walden, and Bellatrix received their Hogwarts letters.

That was the first sign of division. The elder three muttered of Hogwarts worries, of sorting and books and teachers, while the younger simply spent their time picking flowers, or hitting house elves, or lighting Aunt Elladora's cats on fire.

And all at once, they found themselves at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, wishing their friends and relatives farewell. Bella was bouncing with excitement, wand clasped in hand, ready and willing to board the Express. Lucius was absolutely stoic, his father, Abraxas, clamping a heavy hand on his son's shoulder as he spoke to him in a low voice. Walden simply looked about, as if none of this was really special at all. Then again, Walden had been through this three times already, with his older brothers.

"Promise you'll write us, then?" Andromeda pleaded, staring anxiously at the three.

Bella laughed heartily. "Of course, Andy. We're not just going to abandon you; right boys?" The two youngsters nodded, not quite listening

"You must promise," Andromeda pouted, looking to the two boys.

"I, for one, don't care if you gits write or not. You'd better though, or I'll give you hell once you get home," Sirius glared at the two, and at this, they broke into rough grins.

"'Course, Sirius," muttered Walden, shaking the young Black's hand. Lucius nodded an affirmative as well, also shaking the younger boy's hand. "We'll be sure to plot out all the weaknesses of the school for you, _that_ way you can make up for lost time when you finally arrive." At that, the boys laughed at each other, slapping backs and smiling still.

"You will write Reggie and me, won't you?" Narcissa asked quietly. For once, she looked quite unsettled, like a little child, afraid of being left all alone.

"Yeah, we'll write you, Cissy. I dunno about Reggie, I don't think he can even read yet, but we're not about to just forget all about you. We'll be friends just the same, even from Hogwarts," Lucius assured her gently, rubbing her shoulders slightly.

The train whistle blared loud and clear, warning the little seven-some that they only had a precious two minutes left to say good-byes.

"Bye then," Andy muttered, kissing all three on the cheeks and giving big hugs. Narcissa followed suit, though the boys had to bend slightly for her to reach them. Sirius did no such thing, however, and gave both boys a handshake, reserving a hug for his cousin. Reggie though, rather confused, simply followed Narcissa's example, receiving the appropriate "Awww" from all mothers present.

The parents then bid their children a good year and demanded a letter as soon as they got settled into their dormitory, saying little things like how they couldn't wait for the Christmas holidays, listen to your teachers, and so on. Each one smiled dutifully and endured the endless hugs and kisses until, _finally_, the last whistle blared.

Relieved to escape, the three bid a final farewell and scampered onto the train, settling into a compartment with Evan Rosier and second year Rodolphus Lestrange, both family friends. Lucius glanced between Bella and Walden as the train pulled away from the station. "This is going to be a long few years, huh?" he muttered, smiling wistfully.

Bella turned and stared at him as if he had just grown antlers. "And why in the world would you even say that? We're going to Hogwarts! Hogwarts, don't you hear me? We haven't even started yet, and still you say this is going to be dreadful! They may not teach the Dark Arts, but it should still be rather fun! Lighten up, Lucy!"

The blonde shrugged slightly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm just going to miss seeing everyone all the time, you know? I just can't wait until everyone else is here, that's all."

She smirked cruelly, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, so wittle Wucius is home sick? Dats too bad. Should I call your mummy and ask her for your teddy bear?"

"Shut up, Bella, what I feel isn't any of your damn business!" he snarled, lashing out at the girl.

At this, she only cackled wildly.

Yes, he believed he was quite right. It would be a long few years without all of his friends around. Frankly, Christmas simply couldn't come fast enough for the young Lucius Malfoy.

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Well, my first chaptered fanfic in a while. Let me know what you think; feedback is vastly appreciated.


	2. Let the Sorting Please Begin!

Thanks to all my reviewers and readers; I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter, and I hope you like this one. Any and all feedback is appreciated. I eat reviews like IHOP pancakes.

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They arrived in a rather quick fashion, with no unnecessary or unexpected halts. As the train slowed to a stop, the three new first years bolted up, much too excited (and nervous, though none would ever admit it) to remain seated.

"Bella, get the hell out of the way, you're moving too slow!" Lucius demanded, shoving her forward into fourth-year Evan Rosier. The upper classman turned and fixed her with a long, cool stare, before turning his attentions back to the crammed train corridor.

"Quit it, Lucy, you impatient little prat! Everyone else wants to get out just as much as you do; plus, we still have to get our trunks down from the luggage racks! So why don't you do the wizarding world a favor and stop whining?!"

Both Lucius and Walden stared at her as if she belonged in her own little compartment with padded walls at the back of the train. "Are you simply daft, then, Black? Honestly, women are supposed to be crafty and smart, especially women who are meant to be Slytherin. Meanwhile, you're as stupid as a peacock, and not even a female one either, one of the stupid old males. You'll probably end up in Hufflepuff or something," the Malfoy finished with a snort. Walden attempted to strangle a grin, but couldn't quite do it, and instead, it came out as a twisted smirk. Lucius, however, was smirking full force.

Bellatrix had the decency to look utterly gob-smacked for a moment before funneling her shock into rage. "Yeah, well, you'd know what a male peacock is like, wouldn't you Lucy? Always preening like one, and so utterly absorbed in yourself that you probably wouldn't even notice a silent predator sneaking up until it was practically upon you! And then, you'd run, squawking like a big old chicken! No, Lucius, you're such an utter magical disappointment that you aren't even good enough for Gryffindor!"

The little blonde warlock could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, but forced it down. If he let himself get enraged, he would probably just smack the hell out of the girl, and hitting women was highly against his morals. He quickly detached himself from the moment, knowing that aloofness would be the best revenge. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I'm not inclined to listening to a little girl's temper-tantrum. Perhaps you should do it for someone who cares; maybe you could write your mum a letter or something after the feast?"

And with that, and a sneer for good measure, the Malfoy steered himself around the girl and left with Walden in tow, leaving her smoldering with fury.

Once free of the confines of the train, the two boys followed some tall professor yelling for first years and loaded into a small boat, with the company of Charles Avery and Rene Wiltshire. Their childhood friend sat in a boat with a boy and two other girls, and was still fuming, to Lucius's utter delight. In fact, she even pushed one of the other girls out of the boat on the way to the castle. Unfortunately, the lovely entertainment of the girl floundering and screaming was halted, once she was rescued by the giant squid and plopped back into the boat, soaking wet. Bella looked slightly happier, but still shot him an angry glare once she noticed him watching.

Apart from that little mishap, the ride was altogether uneventful. His dislike for Avery was doubled by the rides end, however. He had forgotten how utterly annoying the boy could be. Soon enough, though, they were out of the awful little boat, and making the trek up to the castle.

Once they arrived at the crest of the hill, a tall, slim witch greeted them in a set of midnight blue robes. She wasn't what one would call pretty, for her face and body were far too straight and severe, but she was certainly eye-catching. "Good evening, students, I'm Professor McGonagall. I'm the Transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts, and for some, I'll serve as your head of house. Please line yourselves up, single file, and we will proceed in for the sorting."

The youngsters did as told and got in a line, with Bella sandwiched between Lucius and Walden, any previous transgressions forgotten. Despite their knowledge of the sorting, like all others, they were quite nervous. It was a moment of truth, one in which they couldn't hide anything. The witch, now known as Professor McGonagall, opened the double doors slightly, just enough to admit all the children.

"First years, if you are ready, please file in. I wish you all the best," she said briefly.

Then, she went in to the Hall, followed by the first in line. They all filed in slowly, one after the other, all slightly unnerved by the fact that every eye in the room was trained on them. A plump man with a sprinkling of thin hair closed the doors behind them, smiling gaily and shuffling up next to a stool with a rather bedraggled old hat, a scroll of parchment clasped in his chubby little hand. Walden, Bellatrix, and Lucius all knew this man as Mister Slughorn. He was, in fact, a family friend, and well traveled in pureblood circles. Here, however, he would have to be Professor Slughorn.

Slowly, the focus of the Hall shifted from the children to the hat, and all at once, the torn brim opened wide, and the hat began to sing:

_Welcome one and welcome all,_

_My greetings I extend._

_I'm here tonight to help you, _

_Though I won't offer a hand._

_I'll assist you in a choice_

_That one must make when coming here;_

_On where to go and what to do,_

_With whom or what, and where._

_Of these choices there are four,_

_That help make up the rest._

_You might wonder, aren't there more?_

_But four are on the Hogwarts crest._

_Though there are many types of people,_

_And all types come through these doors,_

_Their character is clear to me,_

_And so, dear child, is yours._

_If you are quite intelligent,_

_With wit to beat all others-_

_You might belong in Ravenclaw,_

_Amongst other knowledge lovers._

_But if, perhaps, your strong suit_

_Is faith for all you are a part;_

_Maybe you're a Hufflepuff,_

_With great loyalty in your heart._

_Maybe you have courage,_

_Enough to beat all other things._

_Then you should be a Gryffindor,_

_And stay with other jungle kings._

_But perhaps you are quite cunning,_

_With trickery to give you pull._

_Then you might be Slytherin,_

_The viper to kill the bull._

_You cannot make this choice yourself,_

_But I can't make it for you._

_You'll have to place me on your head,_

_So I can aid your school debut._

_Now I shant stall anymore,_

_I can tell the state you're in._

_It's time, now, to examine you-_

_So let the sorting please begin!_

And begin it did. Professor Slughorn unrolled the parchment and called out clearly-

"Andia, Michelle!"

A little brunette girl separated herself from the line and shuffled over to the stool, sitting down carefully. After a few seconds of debate, the hat called out- "RAVENCLAW!". There was raucous cheering from the Ravenclaw table, and the girl hurried over, sitting next to some older students and shaking slightly, but still looking rather pleased.

"Atticus, Princely!"

What an awful name _that _was. A chubby boy with mousy brown hair separated himself from the group, and reverently placed the hat on his greasy little head. "HUFFLEPUFF!". The appropriate table cheered, and the boy ran as fast as his fat little legs would carry him.

"Avery, Charles!"

Avery walked over slowly, skeletal looking boy he was, and placed the hat on him, not even bothering to sit. A moment later, the hat decided- "SLYTHERIN!".

"Beladia, Angela!"

That awful girl from the boat ride separated herself from the line. Though she was no longer soaked, to the trio's great disappointment, she still looked just as awful. She put the hat on her frizzy red hair, and then- "GRYFFINDOR!" Typical, that so irritating a girl should be a Gryffindor.

"Black, Bellatrix!"

A murmur traveled through the tables. Yes, anyone who was anyone knew of the Black family, and many probably had little doubt where she'd end up. It was just a matter of how quickly. One could only imagine the whispers MacNair and Malfoy would send through the tables.

Bella picked up the hat, with Professor Slughorn beaming at her. She lowered the hat onto her head, and just as it touched the first hairs of her head, it yelled- "SLYTHERIN!". The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, and Bella flounced over to the table, a wide smile spread across her face as some upperclassmen and Avery whispered their congratulations. Gracelessly, she shoved Avery over and moved so that a space was on either side of her: seats for Lucius and Walden. She made eye contact with them, and both saw what she meant, and smirked in return. Naturally. What else could one expect, really?

And so, the sorting dragged on and on. Goyle and Crabbe both made it to the Slytherin table, which was good. One needed a few good brutes around as the brawn for the Slytherin schemes. Finally, another important name came up. Or, at least, one that was important to Bella.

"MacNair, Walden!"

Walden stalked up to the Sorting Hat, confidence exuding off him in waves. Just as expected, a ripple of whispers traveled through the Great Hall. He plopped the pile of rags onto his head (with a rather disgusted expression, one might add), and seconds later- "SLYTHERIN!".

Another large cheer, and Walden joined Bella on the seat to her right receiving more congratulations, like his comrade had. The two exchange quick kisses on the cheek before both looked at Lucius expectantly.

"Malfoy, Lucius!"

These were the loudest whispers yet. Everyone knew of the Malfoy money, just as everyone knew of the Black lineage. Not that the Malfoy lineage ranked far below the Blacks, or the Black fortune ranked far below the Malfoys, but both were legendary in those respective fields, because they were the best.

Lucius strode over to the hat, and just as quickly as Bellatrix- "SLYTHERIN!"

The table was screaming, banging goblets as the youngest Malfoy situated himself next to Bella. He grinned at his comrades, receiving several congratulations, just as his friends had before him.

So, the sorting dragged on, and the Slytherin table received several more additions, including Rene Wiltshire and Augustus Rookwood. Finally, the affair was over, and the trio stuffed themselves full of various foods. So far, things weren't so bad at Hogwarts. In fact, Bella figured she could adjust this place to suit her purposes quite nicely.

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Again, hope you enjoyed. I wrote the Sorting Hat song myself, by the way. I'm quite proud. **Please don't use the song without permission!**

Please tell me what you think, if you can. I love to know what my readers _really_ think.


	3. Friend or Foe?

As Walden polished off his second helping of strawberry trifle, the food vanished, the plates cleaned themselves, and the feast was abruptly over. The headmaster, Dumble-something, made a few comments, bid them goodnight, and shooed them off. He seemed like an alright fellow, if not a little soft-hearted. From what the older Slytherins had said, he could be a right pain to deal with, despite the fact that he was relatively new to his position. But, he was nothing that he and his friends couldn't handle (or so the youngest MacNair thought).

As directed, the trio followed their house prefects, fifth year Olaf Parkinson and sixth year Katrina Lembai, down the staircases leading to the dungeons.

"Alright firsties, just incase you couldn't pick up on it by now, the passageway to our quarters is in the dungeons," Olaf called out to the new students behind him, his voice a bored monotone.

"Just the passageway?" Bella piped up. She was simply jumping at a chance to make herself look better than this snooty upper classman.

"Just the passageway," Katrina responded, her words clipped. "The actual dormitories and common room are under the lake."

The eldest Black wrinkled her nose. "That's simply awful. All my robes'll get moldy. And the place is probably all damp and chilly and full of mildew."

"Only the best for the Slytherins," Parkinson laughed bitterly. "You'll get used to it after a while. We'll teach you a spell to keep your things in good shape. I advise you to remember it, otherwise you'll find your belongings ruined within a week." The new students nodded, struck dumb by all of the atrociousness.

"It's not all bad, though," Lembai added, her voice graced with light cheer. "The passageway is pretty long, so if Slughorn has to come down because we're making a ruckus, we can cover it all up before he gets to the common room. They'll probably figure things out soon though, and change the location of our rooms; so don't be surprised if it happens."

"Yeah," the younger prefect cut her off. "That brings up something else. We know you got into this house because you're crafty, but being crafty doesn't make you sneaky. Us Slytherins like to keep our business a secret, so I advise you to keep your mouth shut about certain things. This includes any gossip about people more powerful than you, the location of the common room, and the password."

"Obviously," Katrina snorted. "Only spread people's secrets if it's to your advantage. That's the Slytherin way." Suddenly, the hallway ended, and at a solid wall, no less.

"Password is Parseltoungue," Olaf said. "Remember it, and keep it between your housemates."

The bricks in the wall slid aside as he spoke, much like the entrance to Diagon Alley, and their new common room was before them. It looked like a rather unfriendly place; the ceilings were low and everything in the area looked damp. The walls were mostly bare, except for a few sparse bulletin boards, framed pictures of the House quidditch team, a couple of trophy cases, and some portraits. The whole room seemed green, as if it were moldy, and it smelled like a large body of fresh water. 

It did have a few good features, though. The fireplace was simply beautiful, as was the furniture, and the ceiling was enchanted to see through into the bottom of the lake. Fish glittered above them in huge schools, and every now and then a mermaid or kelpie would swim past. It was absolutely amazing.

"It looks even better from the dorms," a voice offered. The voice in question belonged to second year Rodolphus Lestrange, a family friend of both the MacNairs and the Blacks. He grinned at them, hands in his pockets, looking quite proud of the little trio. "Some sorting you three had. Entertaining, to say the least."

"Yes, well, we aim to please," Lucius sneered.

"Obviously not, Malfoy, at least not with _your _attitude," the older student retorted. "Better watch yourself, or I might just curse you right into your shoes."

"I believe the phrase is out of your shoes, Roddy-kins, and you might as well stop mouthing off: We all know you couldn't curse yourself out of a paper bag," Bellatrix interjected, coming to the defense of her closer and wealthier friend.

"'Trix, I don't wanna bring you into this, so don't make me," Rodolphus warned, drawing his wand. His friend and lackey, fellow second year Barty Crouch Junior, looked over cautiously, drawing himself out of his seat by the fire in order to investigate.

"So why don't you do yourself a favor and back out while you still can? If you involve yourself in an altercation with_ any_ of us, you'll be dealing with all of us," Walden warned. "I think it'd be wiser to back off, Rodolphus. Honestly, we may be first years, but it won't do you any favors to make us your enemies. You know better than that." The other first years watched in wonder, gaping at the famous three among them with awe.

"Don't tell me what to do, MacNair!" Rodolphus bit back with a savage rage. Several first years yelped as his wand shot off orange sparks, nearly setting fire to one girl's hair.

"Dolly, I think it'd be best to listen to Walden," Bellatrix cooed, approaching the older boy slowly. "We'd be better as allies than opponents, don't you think?"

The tall brunette lowered his wand reluctantly, his anger cooling to a slow simmer rather than a rolling boil. Any well bred child knew that Rodolphus Lestrange felt something for Bellatrix Black: it was as obvious as the green of summer grass or the blue of a clear sky. He claimed she was like a little sister, and that he protected her so fiercely because she was the kind of delicate little girl who needed such protecting. However, anyone who had ever even been introduced to the eldest Black sister knew she was no such girl, and that Rodolphus had other reasons for following her every move. Bellatrix knew it, too, and she used this information to her advantage. 

"Watch it, Malfoy; next time your little guardian angel might not be around to protect you," Lestrange spat, shoving his wand in his pocket. He pushed past the three younger students, squeezing Bellatrix's hand in passing before heading upstairs to his dormitory. Crouch followed in his path, dark eyes darting all over as he ran to catch up with the taller boy's long strides, tripping up the staircase in his hurry. After a moment, the dark haired little girl whipped around, shoving the offending boy in question.

"Don't do that again, Lucy, he's right," Bella warned, giving the blonde boy a dark look.

"Wh-What?!" he sputtered, stepping back in surprise. "Are you kidding?! He practically attacks me, I don't even get a word in edgewise, and here you are, reprimanding me? Why don't you go tell off your plaything?"

"Because he's more easily manipulated; I don't have to. But Walden's right, he makes a better friend than enemy. He's got connections, in the school and out. We could use him," she coaxed.

The wealthy heir snorted with disdain. "Please. Our money can make better connections than any second year, no matter who they are. Money talks, Bella."

"So does a name like Lestrange," she answered.

"But a name like Black speaks a whole lot louder," Lucius retorted.

"Regardless, Mal, a friendship is danger countered best," Walden quoted sagely.

"Yeah," Bellatrix brightened. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Why bother when dead men tell no tales?" her bitter friend spat. So, rather than continue the verbal duel, she punched him in the arm. The Malfoy heir glowered down at her before sweeping off, storming up the boy's staircase.

"Don't worry," Walden patted her shoulder. "I'll try and talk to him. If he doesn't see the sense in what we're saying after I'm done with him, then he will by morning. Despite his stubbornness, we both know that Mal is, by nature, a logical guy."

"Doesn't make him any less of a jackass," she muttered, retreating to her staircase. "'Night, Waldy. Good luck with the albino."

Walden nodded to himself, waving her farewell as he headed for his own dormitories, a long argument ahead of him. Once he arrived at the door, he realized he was quite right: the door was already magically locked. He quickly charmed it open, rolling his eyes at his friends immaturity. But, the locking was only a foreshadowing. Once he'd actually gotten in, he had a minor duel with his friend, the two shouting at each other between shots as Avery cowered under his blankets, until they had both significantly tired themselves, and Lucius passed out on his four-poster. 

Walden dragged himself over to his desk, plopping down in the chair. Slowly, he prepared a quill and took out a piece of parchment to write.

_Dear Mum,_

_All's well here at school. Hogwarts seems nice. Me, Lucius, and Bellatrix all got sorted into Slytherin. Please tell Mrs. Malfoy, because Lucius hasn't written and he's already asleep. More letters to come._

_-Walden_

And with that, the brunette changed into his night-clothes and crawled into his oak four poster, looking out at the lake through the transparent walls and ceilings of his dormitory before pulling the curtains shut and falling asleep.

_Yes_, Walden thought, fading off into oblivion, _Hogwarts is quite nice. These next few years should be rather fun. _


	4. Letters for Lucius

_**Bonus Easter Chapter. Enjoy!**_

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_**September 2, 1968**_

_My Dearest Lucius,_

_I am thoroughly upset that you didn't have the common decency to write your own mother about your sorting! It's one of the most important moments of your scholarly career, and you couldn't even find the time to write me a note about it! Instead, I have to get a note from Dahlia MacNair at nearly eleven letting me know you were in Slytherin! Honestly, Lucius!_

_But, no matter, I shall forgive you. You are blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh, and Lord knows I can be forgetful sometimes. It's so wonderful that you're in Slytherin; your father and I couldn't be happier. I hope you're enjoying yourself at that place. I know the mud-bloods ruin the atmosphere of things, but hopefully we'll get them out of their soon. Mr. Black is working to secure your father a place on the school board with him, and together, those two can do anything._

_I hope things aren't too terrible there. Be sure to write about all of your classes: don't forget! I expect to hear from you no later than nine o'clock tonight._

_Love,_

_Mummy_

_**September 2, 1968**_

_To My Son,_

_I'm quite glad to hear about your sorting results. I didn't expect any less from you. Be sure to get to all your classes promptly, and take what you can from the lessons. I'm sure you will succeed there; you are a Malfoy, after all._

_You'll soon get a new broomstick in the post. Finalize your best position and be sure to get some time on the pitch and practice. Once you know what you'd like to do, just write home and I'll send a few training pieces for you. I should like to see you on the team next year._

_Enjoy yourself at school, and be sure to write your mother, or she may have a conniption. We'll see you at Christmas._

_Your Father,_

_Abraxas B. Malfoy_

_**September 2, 1968**_

_Dear Mum,_

_Sorry I didn't write you, I ended up thoroughly tired after my first night. Hogwarts is rather nice; I enjoy the enchanted ceilings._

_The classes are fine. I take Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy, just like any other first year. Bella and Walden are in all of my classes, obviously. We work with Ravenclaws mostly, so it's actually rather pleasant, apart from the occasional uppity know-it-all._

_I apologize in advance if I don't write often; I think I'll be quite busy here. But, you're in my thoughts._

_Your Loving Son,_

_Lucius A. Malfoy_

_**September 3, 1968**_

_Dear Lucius,_

_How'd everything go? We heard from Bella; she told us about your sorting, and that's wonderful! But does the sorting hat really suck on your brain? Should I wear a helmet or something?_

_Tell me EVERYTHING! Write ASAP!_

_Love,_

_Andy_

_**September 4, 1968**_

_Dear Andromeda,_

_Everything's fine, school is nice, and the sorting hat doesn't suck your brain, so there's no need for a helmet._

_Classes are actually pretty interesting, aside from History of Magic. The ceilings are enchanted in the Great Hall (that's where we eat), and in the Slytherin quarters, the ceilings are enchanted to see into the bottom of the lake! In the dormitories, even the walls are see-through! It's really interesting._

_There are suits of armor and moving staircases, just like in old castles of Scotland, and there're ghosts too. It's rather nice here. I think you'll like it._

_Lucius_

_PS- What does ASAP mean?_

_**September 5, 1968**_

_Dear Lucius,_

_I waited a bit before writing so you could settle into things at school. Bella told us the three of you got sorted into Slytherin. That's nice. Did the sorting hurt? Does the hat really suck on your brain? That's what Bella told me, but I don't know if that's true. If so, will it eat my hair?_

_Are things nice at school? How are the teachers? Daddy has my dance teacher come every Saturday at seven, and she's mean. She even canes me when I do things wrong! Are the teachers mean at Hogwarts?_

_I think Bella's lying to me about school, so I hope you'll write me about it soon. I'd really like to know._

_Narcissa_

_**September 6, 1968**_

_Dear Lucius,_

_Everything sounds so wonderful; I'm sure you're enjoying yourself. I just can't wait until I'm there with you. Just two more years. I'm sure we'll have loads of good times together. I'll write you soon!_

_Also, ASAP means As Soon As Possible. It's a muggle expression I learned while I was in London. _

_Love,_

_Andy_

_**September 7, 1968**_

_Dear Narcissa,_

_Thanks for waiting. Everyone overwhelmed me with those letters right away, because I had all kinds of homework. Sorry it took me a day or two to get back to you; I had an astronomy project to do. I had to map out a constellation on a star chart. I did Ursa Major._

_The sorting doesn't hurt, Bella's a liar. They just make you put on an old musty hat, and it tells you where to go. It doesn't suck on your brain at all._

_The teachers are alright. Did you know Mr. Slughorn teaches here? He's the Potions professor! I remembered him telling us he was a teacher, but I didn't know he taught at Hogwarts! No matter though; he's very good to us._

_I don't want to sound weird, but does Andy have a crush on me? In her last letter, she signed it 'Love Andy', but I don't know what to think. Do you know anything about it?_

_Also, what do you think of Rodolphus Lestrange? Your sister wants me to be friends with him, but he seems rather full of himself._

_How're things at home? What're you, Sirius, and Andy doing? Write soon!_

_Lucius_

_**September 9, 1968**_

_Dear Lucius,_

_That's really odd. I think she does like you though. She talks about you an awful lot; it's getting to be unbearable. She and some servant went to muggle London yesterday and brought back this long-haired Persian kitten they bought in some uppity muggle pet store, and she named it Lucius. I almost vomited right then. At the same time though, it's somewhat funny, because it does act like you. It walks around with its tail held high, nose in the air, and everything is always graceful and dainty. To top it off, he always ignores Andy and follows me and Sirius. It's all white, too. Quite funny, really._

_Speaking of Andy, she's acting quite weird. She begs the servants every day to take her out to muggle London. It's like she wants to be one of them, you know? Last Tuesday, Sirius and I set all her robes on fire and put muggle clothes in her closet to make fun of her. She was in tears, but it was still funny._

_As for Rodolphus, he's actually rather nice. He gave Bella a dragon egg for her birthday. Mum had been keeping it above the fireplace on display, but once you all left, me and Siri replaced it with a fake, and we've been trying to hatch it in his fireplace at my aunts house. It's been moving, so we think it'll hatch any day now. But yes, he's rather nice. Ask him what kind of dragon's in the egg, will you?_

_Narcissa_

_**September 9, 1968**_

_Mal,_

_Cissy and I are hatching a dragon egg! Can you believe it?! Last week, we flushed Uncle Alphard's prized fish, but this is so much better!! Tell Bella please, I'd rather you tell her than me._

_Sirius_

_PS- Congrats on Slytherin. Hope school's nice._

_**September 10, 1968**_

_Sirius,_

_Yeah, Cissa told me. You're going to get yourself killed one day, you know? Whether it's by your dangerous adventures or your crazy relatives, you're going to die a premature death: I just know it._

_I'll tell Bella for you. Hope things're well at home._

_Lucius_

_**September 10, 1968**_

_Dear Cissa,_

_Thanks for telling me about Andy. I'll take the proper precautions. Maybe I'll get some muggle-lover repellant or something. And the cat thing is kinda weird._

_How's the egg? Rodolphus said it's a Hebridean Black, so I'd be careful if I were you. They can be nasty creatures if you don't treat them right. What're you going to feed it?_

_Lucius_

_PS- Hope you don't mind that I'm calling you Cissa, it's just easier to write._

_**September 11,1968**_

_Thanks mate. How'd she take it?_

_Sirius_

_**September 12, 1968**_

_Sirius,_

_Wasn't happy at all, she nearly clawed my face off. I'd be careful during the winter holidays, if I were you. She might murder you in your sleep. Good luck with that._

_Lucius_

_**September 13, 1968**_

_Lucius,_

_Oh, it's so exciting!! The egg hatched! It's so beautiful! According to the book we got from Uncle Proteus's library, it's a male, and he's simply lovely. Beautiful solid coloring, no bad scales. He's got a great shine, and his eyes are so pretty and bright! He loves me a lot more than Sirius, because I was there when he hatched and he saw me first. We're naming him Charcoal. You'll love him, he's simply darling._

_Cissa_

_**September 13, 1968**_

_That's all well and good, Cissy, but what the hell are you going to feed that thing? You do realize you can't feed it Pumpkin Pasties, right? It needs meat! And where the hell are you going to keep it when it gets too big for Sirius's room?!_

_Luc_

_**September 14, 1968**_

_Thanks mate, you did me a huge favor. I can take Bella, no worries. Cis told me she told you about Charcoal, so I'll leave the dragon communications to her. He's a right nasty bugger, though. Hates everyone but her. You'll see what I mean when you come visit._

_Sirius_

_**September 14, 1968**_

_Luc,_

_I have it all under control. Hebridean Blacks eat a lot of deer and beef, sometimes sheep, dogs, or stray magical creatures. That's not that hard to get, and I've been talking to Crane Burke and Castille Borgin, and they said they'll talk to their dads and see if they can't get some stuff for me. They owe me a favor anyway, because Castille ripped my good dress robes last time she was here._

_As for location, we'll probably shove him in the floo, take him to my house, and loose him in the backyard. My parents will never notice._

_Cis_

_**September 17, 1968**_

_Cis,_

_Sorry I haven't written in a while, I had a detention from the DADA (Defense Against the Dark Arts) professor for _not_ being a total moron, and I had an essay due for History of Magic._

_Anyways, I don't think it's wise to enlist help from Borgin and Burke: you never know where that meat is coming from, let alone the blood. And when did you start hanging around with the likes of Castille Borgin? They're almost as poor as the Weasleys. _

_Do you honestly expect your parents not to notice a dragon? You may have quite a few acres, but sooner or later, they'll notice the corpses and the burnt trees, and they might figure something's amiss. Write soon._

_Luc_

_**September 18, 1968**_

_Luc,_

_It's alright. And just so you know, Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke have become partners and opened a shop in Knockturn Alley for dark artifacts, and they've actually been really successful. According to Castille, they have a particular patron who buys quite a few of the more dangerous and expensive pieces. She said her father said he's an extremely gifted wizard of the dark. Scary, huh? Anyway, the shop did open before you went away, but I guess you just didn't notice it. It smells a little, but overall, it's very fascinating._

_Everything will be fine. _The Field Guide to Dragons_ says that Hebridean Blacks only grow up to thirty feet long. That's not terrible. And I doubt he'll eat as much as you say; he'll probably eat a carcass every other day. That's hardly even noticeable._

_Cis_

_**September 19, 1968**_

_Mal,_

_What's this Bella says about you three being all chummy with Rodolphus Lestrange? Are you replacing me, then? And with an idiot like Lestrange?_

_Sirius_

_**September 19, 1968**_

_Sirius,_

_We're not replacing you permanently, just for a couple years. We needed someone to fill the gap, and it's always good to have a little brawn on hand. Don't take it personally, mate. When you come back, Lestrange'll be like the hired help._

_Your __**friend**_

_Luc_

_**September 20, 1968**_

_Dear Lucius,_

_I don't wanna be replaced at all. If some complete moron is good enough to 'fill the gap', then don't bother with having a gap. You might as well pretend we were never friends, because we certainly aren't anymore._

_From,_

_Sirius P. Black_

_**September 25, 1968**_

_Lucius,_

_What's wrong with you?! I can't believe you, the nerve of you, saying that to Sirius! And then you didn't even bother to write back and apologize or ask for forgiveness? Well forget it, things are shot to hell between you two. He refuses to even say your name. It's a right shame you ruined things like that._

_Charcoal's about the size of a horse now, so I opted to move him back to my house. So far, it's been about fifteen hours and my parents don't know. The worst part is when he comes in my window every night; he makes so much noise! But, he isn't comfortable sleeping by himself yet, so I have to let him in._

_Just because I'm still friends with you doesn't mean I'm not mad at you. Sirius is my family, and I love him dearly, but you're practically family too. So, I won't choose between you. I just wish you hadn't done that._

_Cissa_

_PS- Andy doesn't like you like you anymore. She's too into her weird muggle things to notice you._


	5. The Dragon Papers

I'd like to take a second to thank my reviewers, Exia, Angelle, and boxter

I'd like to take a second to thank my reviewers, **Exia, Angelle, and boxter**. Thank you so much guys; the time you take out to write that review really helps me, because it keeps me motivated.

Also, do you guys like the letter format? What I think I'll do is offset letter chapters with normal chapters until everyone gets together. What do you think?

Well, enjoy…

* * *

It was Sunday morning, seven o'clock. Most students would be sleeping, or working on an essay, but Lucius Malfoy was certainly not most students. Instead, he was zipping around the quidditch pitch on his Silver Arrow.

_Dive, roll, swerve, duck, drop, shoot._

This had become something of a routine. A few weeks ago, he had written to his father, saying he had decided to be a chaser. The next day, he had received a package carried by twenty owls, which ended up being traditional quaffles, resistance quaffles, running quaffles, and weighted quaffles, the heaviest of which was fifty pounds.

_Dive, roll, swerve, duck, drop, shoot._

This had now become routine. Each morning he would get up early to practice, the October chill nipping at him throughout the flight. It bit his cheeks, chapped his lips, mussed his hair… By the time he'd come back in, it would look like he had a violent romp session with some passionate mistress.

_Dive, roll, swerve, duck, drop, shoot._

But this was not so. No, the young Malfoys only mistress was Quidditch, for the moment. The flight and the game filled him with such excitement, such terror, such thrills that it had become addictive. It was like-

"Lucy! Get down here right now!"

It was certainly _not_ like Bella screaming, that was for sure.

"Lucius! Did you hear me? I said get down here right this instant!"

He ignored her for a moment, continuing with the routine, until he got an idea. He smirked slightly, then started his routine again.

_Dive._

He plummeted like a stone, falling and falling, coming straight at Bella at the speed of a freight train. She just stood there, waiting for him to pull up, waiting and waiting and waiting until he could see the whites of her eyes, her pupils, and-

She screamed like a banshee, and dropped to the ground. He stopped, inches from where she would have been standing. He raised a thin eyebrow, looking down at her in amusement. "I'm sorry Bella, didn't you need something?"

She scrambled to her feet, glaring at him furiously. "Well, I suppose I won't tell you then," she said, wrinkling her nose as she turned to walk away.

"Alright, alright, what is it?" he hopped off his broom.

She turned, still irritated. "Walden says he needs to talk to you." Lucius laughed, amused.

"Is that all you needed, then? Why were you so frantic?" he questioned, summoning the quaffles to their respective cases.

"Well," she huffed. "I need to get ready for the Halloween Feast tomorrow, and I don't have time to run all your silly errands."

The eldest of the trio gave Bellatrix that confused, blank sort of look men tend to give women when they don't quite comprehend their rituals and customs. "It's… tomorrow, though."

"Exactly!" the brunette called back, already heading for the castle. Lucius quickly levitated the quaffle cases and ran after her.

After a few minute, they had arrived at the common room. The young Malfoy, still thoroughly confused, parted ways with his companion, shaking his head as he trudged up the stairs. He opened the door to his dormitory, directing the cases under his bed, and his broom to its reverent post on the display rack above his dresser. Flopping on his four-poster, he indulged himself in a few moments of relaxation before cleaning up and changing. Wiggling around until he faced Walden's bed, the blonde threw a stray chocolate frog at the curtains. "Needed to talk, mate?"

The boy in question parted his curtains and sighed. "My brother's marrying over the Christmas break."

"Which one?" Lucius questioned, eyebrows knitted together.

"Thomas," he said glumly, face in his hands.

"So why's that so bad? I thought he was dating that French Veela? If she's anything like Mrs. Black, she's gotta be a real knock-out," Lucius said, turning over to better address his friend.

"Right, well, problem is, he isn't. He told us that to keep us satisfied, but in reality, he's dating some filthy half-blood," he spat. Lucius sat up, fully alert now.

"You're kidding. You've gotta be," he said, silver eyes wide with shock. "Your brother can't be that stupid."

"Yeah, well, he is, alright? Ruined three centuries of positively pristine blood, because he's a bloody idiot with his head in the clouds! How could he be that selfish?! How could he be so self-serving?! He was always the nice one, the generous one, and then he ruins us! Ruins the whole family!" Walden was absolutely fuming, dark eyes on fire with untamed fury.

"Well, could be worse," the Chaser-in-training offered tentatively. "It could be a mudblood."

"That's true," the brunette admitted, running his hands through his hair, absentmindedly.

"Are you going to the wedding?" Lucius asked, changing his clothes, not bothering to wash up. Walden snorted with disdain.

"Hell no, are you kidding? My family would never. I imagine that we'll still let him be part of the family, though. I feel sorrier for her."

"I would too," his fellow agreed, tugging on some black trousers. "Your family probably won't invite her to anything, or their kids."

"Yeah, well, that's the price they pay, I suppose," Walden sighed in resignation. "Let's go get some breakfast, I'm starving." His companion nodded in agreement, smoothing his hair with a little water before going to the Great Hall.

The two filled their plates with bacon, pancakes, syrup, sausage, and a few pieces of toast, chatting amiably about school, courses, and how they couldn't wait for the end of the year. It was in the midst of their conversation that Bella came and sat next to Walden, putting some eggs and fruit on her plate. "Heard about your brother," she said quietly. "Sorry."

"Aren't we all," he answered bitterly, taking a swig of pumpkin juice. "Keep it quiet." She nodded meekly, nibbling on a bit of melon. At that moment, Rodolphus plopped down next to her, heaping his plate full of a little everything. He muttered a quick morning greeting to the table before digging into his small mountain of breakfast food.

In a minor blizzard of feathers and paper, the post came for that morning. After all, owl post doesn't abide to the 'no deliveries on Sunday' rule. Each one of the four got their customary letters, to which they would reply to that evening, and Rodolphus, as well as Lucius, got the _Prophet _delivery. Lucius gave the bird five knuts and a piece of sausage before shooing it off, leaving his mail untouched. Rodolphus however, took a quick gulp of pumpkin juice before breaking out the paper. He quickly sputtered, nearly choking, before swallowing quickly and coughing. The other three looked at him questioningly, while Walden, who had already finished his meal, opened Lucius's copy. He, too, gaped at the cover, before handing it to Lucius. The headline read:

**The Perfect Security System: Black Family Keeping Dragons!**

Below this fantastic headline was a half page picture of Narcissa on broomstick, flying with her rather large pet. The two swirled around each other, ducking, pulling back, and circling each other. Narcissa, for her part, looked positively delighted, laughing wildly, her long blonde mane whipping in the wind behind her. The dragon, which really was a rather outstanding specimen, looked quite happy too, that is, if dragons could look happy. Even _The Prophet_ seemed to agree:

_Everything seemed to be relatively quiet in the countryside northeast of Little Hangleton. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. On the grounds of the Black Family Manor (Cygnus branch), animal corpses were turning up, several trees had been burned, and people nearby occasionally reported sightings of a large, dark shape gliding overhead. According to reliable sources, this has been happening since the beginning of October, and due to all of the reports, the Ministry saw it fit to investigate Black Manor, not necessarily because they felt the Blacks responsible, but because on the nine hundred square acres of land that comprises the Black estate, something could easily hide itself. Once the investigation began, however, officials soon found what they never dreamed about. Amongst all of the other magical wonders on the property, Ministry officials found a juvenile dragon, specifically, a thirty-two foot male Hebridean Black. Experts estimate the animal will be forty-five feet long when it is fully grown._

_Though the family at first seemed to have no knowledge of the animal, when the officials present began to talk about taking it to a dragon preserve in Romania or Spain, their youngest daughter, Narcissa, admitted to hatching and raising the beast. Miss Black is only nine (to turn ten in December), and for such a young girl to care for a dragon so well is a wonder in and of itself, according to experts on the subject of dragon hatching. When dragon handlers attempted to remove the animal, Miss Black became extremely distraught, and the animal became hostile to handlers, burning one and nearly maiming another. As a compromise, the handlers suggested that the Blacks declare a portion of their estate a dragon preserve, and their daughter could take an exam to officially certify herself as a dragon handler. The family readily agreed, and dedicated three hundred acres on the spot. The following morning, young Narcissa passed the handlers exam with flying colors, making her the youngest dragon handler in history. When reporters asked her for a comment, Miss Black simply said _"I'm just happy to keep Charcoal."._ When Cygnus Black was asked for his thoughts on the matter, he smiled and said: _"Some children keep dogs, or cats, or owls, but my daughter likes to keep dragons. An extraordinary animal for an extraordinary girl. I think it's rather fitting." _The publicist for the Blacks said that the family plans to purchase another five hundred acres of land in order to add several more dragons to the property, and may begin a breeding program. We at the Prophet wish the Black family the best in all of their extraordinary endeavors._

Lucius chuckled to himself. Yes, it was rather fitting. Narcissa certainly was a very extraordinary girl. Lucius finished his pumpkin juice, picked up his mail, and left his plate half-full at the table. Before he did anything, it was certainly necessary to congratulate little Cissy on her dragon handling abilities.


	6. Poetry Delivery!

Thanks again to boxter, you're a real help

SOOOOO SORRY about the delay. Before I was on break and I didn't have much work, but my AP and competition season is April and May, so now it's a little difficult to find time. Expect updates at least bi-weekly, however.

Much love to my readers and reviewers, as well as the members who have my on their favorites and alerts.

* * *

**October 30, 1968**

Dear Cissy,

Are you crazy?! How could you let mother and father find out you're keeping dragons?! You're lucky everybody embraced it, you know, or father could be in **big **trouble with the Ministry. But, I must say, they did run a rather good article.

Anyways, tomorrow is the Halloween Feast. I was going to wear some dark green dress robes and plait my hair, but I'm not sure. What do you think? Write back before tomorrow night, please!!

Love,

Bella

**October 31, 1968**

Bella,

See what everyone else is wearing first. Momma always says to be aware of your audience, and you don't want to go wearing silk dress robes if nobody else is. Ask somebody older what they're wearing. The hair sounds nice, though. And if it is a dress robe affair, dark green is not an autumn color; I would choose a chocolate brown.

Cissy

**November 3, 1968**

Ma Chere Bellatrix,

You have told me much of this upcoming feast, so tell me how it has gone, won't you? Did you look beautiful? Was everyone in awe of you? Don't disappoint me, now. You are my daughter, and I hope you've inherited some of my traits, as we are quite opposite in looks.

I shall send you a little package soon. Just some good-goods from home, and some biscuits. I bought you some new robes, and I made a care package for M. Slughorn, also. Take care, my love. Succeed!

Beaucoup d'Amour,

Maman

**November 4, 1968**

To the Most Beautiful Girl in the World,

Bella darling, words cannot speak of your beauty and charm and grace. You are a dark angel: absolutely perfect. Your skin is white as fresh cheese, and your hair is as dark as broomstick grease. Please go out with me?

Your Soulmate,

Rodolphus

**November blahblah**

Rodolphus,

Stop writing me your horrid poetry. It's two in the morning. If you don't cease and desist, I'll hex your bits off.

Bellatrix (The Warrior)

**November 7, 1968**

Dear Cissy,

I'm sorry for not writing sooner, it just slipped my mind. I asked Alecto Carrow, and she said the feast isn't a dress affair, so I just wore my school robes and plaited my hair. Good advice though, thank you.

Bella

**November 8, 1968**

Mum,

I didn't get a chance to write, but I did get your package. Professor Slughorn was delighted with the crystallized pineapple, and thank you for the Spanish dark chocolates and your ginger snaps. And, I love the mint casual robes and the pendant. It's all lovely.

The feast was very casual, so no one was really in awe except Rodolphus Lestrange, and he doesn't really count. He's _always_ in awe.

Love,

Bellatrix

**November 9, 1968**

Ma Chere Bella,

Don't deride the Lestrange boys attentions. He comes from a very good family, if not a bit less wealthy than us, but how many families can equal our fortunes? But, no matter. Just try and keep him under your thumb, alright? For me? Any alliance with a good family is a good alliance. Don't just ruin good favor without a reason.

Beaucoup Bijous,

Maman

**November 11, 1968**

Mum,

Honestly, you can't be serious. Rodolphus Lestrange is one of the most annoying boys I've met in my entire life, and all you can do is tell me to sit back and take it because he's a Lestrange?! Where's the reason in that? We're Blacks! We have everything the Lestranges have in spades! So yeah, if he annoys me, I **AM** gonna tell him to bugger off!

Bella

**November 13, 1968**

My Bella,

Your mother informs me that in your last letter, you showed her a severe lack of respect. Bella, you must learn that your mother only wishes the best for you, and there's no reason for you to talk to her the way you do. I understand that sometimes, the experience of your eleven years says that your mother must be wrong, but trust her thirty-one years enough to give the benefit of the doubt. At some point, you're going to have to learn to listen.

Now, do well in your classes, and please behave. I don't want another floo call from the Headmaster saying you transfigured your pincushion into a mace and tried to maul someone. We'll be sending you some of your favorite gingersnaps soon, but apologize to your mother. Your last response was impertinent and unnecessary.

Cookies to Come,

Father

**November 13, 1968**

Dear Bella,

I hope school is going well for you. Things are nice at home. Andy's still a freak, and Sirius and I still have great fun with her. Reggy's still shy as always, but now he's learning to read and write. In a few months, he might even write a letter.

Mum and Dad have pretty much accepted the dragon thing. Mum gets really nervous going outside, and she had to put a barrier around her special deer herds, but it's okay. Dad actually really supports it. He's working on securing me a few different eggs, like a Peruvian Vipertooth and a Hungarian Horntail. We're also trying to get a Hebridean egg that's guaranteed to hatch female, but it's very difficult to know the sex before the incubation, let alone the hatching. Daddy doesn't want to talk to Borgin or Burke, because he says they're 'uncouth', whatever that means. I just want my egg.

Anyways, have fun, and write more often! Lucius writes me more than you_, honestly_!

Cissa

**November 14, 1968**

Dear Mum,

I'm sorry for being short with you in my last letter, but please realize, I am only eleven, and I'm not thinking about marriage or anything. I don't even like Rodolphus that way. He's really annoying.

Thanks for thinking of me and making gingersnaps. I eat them all day long, for about three days, until I run out. Then I wait until the end of the week so you send more.

School's well. Lucius, Walden, and I are having a lot of fun. Tell Andy I said hello.

Love,

Bella

**November 15, 1968**

Ma Petite Belle,

It's quite alright. I understand your short temper, and I forgive you. I just wish you'd listen sometimes.

I'm glad to hear that things are going well at school. Everything at home is quite normal. Your sisters still fight, your father still spoils us all, and the house is still lovely. This dragon issue still takes some getting used to. I'm still a little nervous around them, but it seems like a rather nice beast, and Narcissa certainly has it well trained. But, you'll get to see it for yourself when you come home for the winter holidays. In the meantime, enjoy yourself, honey.

Au Revoir,

Maman

**November 16, 1968**

Dear Cissy,

Sorry I haven't written, but obviously we all can't be as perfect as Lucius Malfoy_. Clearly_.

Notice the sarcasm? Just checking.

Good to know someone's putting Andy in her place. She really is a freak, honestly. I don't know what's wrong with her.

It's good that Reggy's learning to read and stuff. I mean, he's five already, and _now_ he's looking at a book? Geez, we'd already mastered reading by the time we were his age.

I still can't believe you're breeding dragons. It's so weird. Why couldn't you breed lizards or something? Or dogs? Or deer, like mom? What if I get eaten when I come home for the holidays? Those things are dangerous!

Tell mum I'm working on my Christmas list, and to send pictures of the dress robes I get to choose from for the Winter Gala. And **don't **pick the same color as me!

Bella

PS- What are you asking for on Christmas?

**November 18, 1968**

Bella,

Don't pick on Lucius, it's not very nice.

And my dragons would never hurt anybody! They're very good creatures, you know! By the way, at present, I'm incubating a Hungarian Horntail and a Norwegian Ridgeback. They should both be hatched before you come home; isn't it exciting?!

I told mum for you, and she said she'll send the pictures with your weekly gingersnaps. That quite honestly isn't fair, either. I better get a weekly shipment of my favorite biscotti when I go to Hogwarts next year…

Cissa

PS- I won't wear the same color as you as long as you don't wear blue. I'll probably wear blue. What're you thinking of?

PPS- I dunno. Probably some additional acreage for my dragons, a few different robes, and some jewelry.

**November 19, 1968**

Bel,

Don't talk bad about me to Narcissa. It's rude to gossip, and it's even worse to be jealous. Just because I'm better than you in every conceivable way doesn't mean you can be all nasty.

Mal

**November etc…**

In your dreams, you stupid prat.

**November 23, 1968**

My Dearest Bella,

I know how you hate my night-time letters, so I made sure I waited until morning to send this one.

I love you like a flower loves the sun, like the earth loves the sky, like a fish loves the water. You're absolutely magnificent. You're by far my most favorite of God's creatures. I'll love you forever, and without you, I believe I would die.

Love (Please?),

Rodolphus

**November 24, 1968**

Rod,

You're twelve, you don't even know what love _is_. Leave me the hell alone or I'll poison you during Potions.

No Love at All,

Bellatrix

**November 26, 1968**

Cissy,

No, dragons are _not _exciting, _at all_. They're horrid. They're stupid beasts, meant to be exterminated and turned into gloves and aprons. Get rid of them!

I've decided on a burnt orange color. Good idea?

Bel

**November 28, 1968**

Sure, just wait a year to write to me, why don't you? I mean, could you take any longer? Honestly!

I'm not getting rid of my babies, and burnt orange sounds nice, yes. Send me the picture mommy sent you, though, I wanna see what they look like. I can't make a picture just based on the color of the robes, you know. Send them in less than a week preferably.

Cissa

**November 30, 1968**

Bel,

I got the pictures, and I like the robes, but I'll stick with my preference for brown shoes. Black would just look really weird.

And guess what?! The Horntail hatched! I'm so excited you have no idea!! It's a female, which is great, because that's what I was aiming for. Males are so much easier to hatch, but you really only need one male per three females, otherwise the whole territory issue becomes a very expensive bit. The Norwegian Ridgeback is due in a few days, and I'm hoping for the same kind of result. Wish me luck!

Cissy

**December 5, 1968**

Dear Bellatrix,

Don't ever do that again. I don't mean to be harsh, but I don't want another letter from Professor Slughorn or an additional complaint from the Lestranges. The detentions you received were justly deserved, and you'd best have served them well. I hope it teaches you not to light anybodies robes on fire again. It's unseemly.

Yours,

Father

**December 8, 1968**

Dear Daddy,

You don't understand, he practically goaded me to do it! He keeps writing me these awful poems and 'I love you!' notes and sending them to me in the post at all hours of the day and night! He even throws them at me in class! And I asked him not to, and I _warned_ him what would happen, but he didn't leave me alone! So I pretty much had to do it, or I would risk being labeled all bark and no bite.

If his family is complaining, send them a Howler or something about his awful poetry and how he keeps annoying me during class! It's almost creepy!

Love,

Bella

**December 11, 1968**

Bel,

Just wanted to let you know the Ridgeback is hatched, and yet again, I managed a female. I think I'm getting the hang of this incubation temperature thing. It's really kind of easy once you know what you're doing.

Less than two weeks 'till I see you! I can't waaiiittt!

Cissa

PS- Find out what Lucius is getting me for my birthday. He won't tell me, and I really want to know. So far I've figured out that it has multiple pieces to it, or at least that's what I think. Ask him!

**December 15, 1968**

Cissa,

You're crazy. I wish Rodolphus had never gotten me that stupid egg. Where are you_ keeping_ those things, anyway? It's winter, so they can't go outside, can they? As babies?

I have no idea what Lucy's gotten you for your birthday. I tried to get it out of him, but he just got more and more smug as I kept talking to him, and then I got fed up, so I stopped asking. You'll know in less than ten days, so have some patience and wait.

Bella

**December 17, 1968**

Bella,

They sleep in the bed with me. The body heat gives them some comfort, and I keep my fire going all night to keep the room hot enough. I get cold at night too, though, so I don't mind.

What'd you get me for my birthday?

Cissy

PS- FIVE DAYSSSS!!

**December 19, 1968**

Cissa,

I'm coming home on your birthday, so my gift to you is me. That's the best gift there is, don't you think? I mean, there really is nothing better.

I'll be home in three days. Tell Siri and Reggy.

Bella


	7. Creaks, Groans, and Rumbles

It was December twenty-second, and for the Hogwarts students, it was the day they headed home for the holidays. Bellatrix slowly levitated scattered clothing into her trunk. Her closest female friend, Pleione Rosier, watched her from her four poster, her own trunk already packed.

"What're you doing for the holidays, Belle?" the pale pureblood questioned. Her deep red hair provided a sharp contrast against the emerald coverlet, which served only to further accentuate her fair complexion and ocean blue eyes.

"Oh, you know, things. Narcissa's turning ten today, so we'll probably have a little get together or something… Then, I'll most likely just play around with Walden, Lucius, Rodolphus, and my family 'till the Gala," Bellatrix said with a shrug. "After that, I'll just hang out 'till the third." Pleione nodded in understanding, playing with her hair. "What about you?"

"Oh, about the same," she answered. "Just hanging out, opening gifts, and the Gala."

"Mmhmm. Come here and help me close this trunk, will you?" Bellatrix stood on the lid of the luggage she referred to, hopping up and down trying to jam it shut. Pleione jumped up and obliged, perching on top of the trunk as Bellatrix buckled it closed, and then the two stood back to admire their accomplishment.

"Oi! Plee! Get down here, or we're leaving for the train without you!"

Pleione glared at the door, turning to her friend, exasperated. "Excuse me for a moment." She strutted over to her trunk, opened the door, and pushed it out, leaving it to go sailing down the stairs like a bobsled. They heard two appropriate yells along with two 'oomph's, and the red-head smiled in satisfaction. "Guess it's about that time." Bellatrix nodded, and the two headed down the stairs, levitating a rather over-stuffed piece of luggage behind them. In the common room, they were greeted by two fuming Rosier brothers, fourth year Evan and sixth year Hugo.

"Stupid brat," Hugo growled. "_First_ you make us late for the train, _then _you knock us over with your trunk, and _now_ you decide to just breeze down whenever you please?!"

"Well, if I'd made us late for the train, the train would already be gone, wouldn't it?" she retorted. The two pinned her with a look before Evan snipped that they were leaving. Pleione weighed her options for a moment, shrugged at Bellatrix helplessly, and the two followed her older brothers.

"I hate brothers," she muttered to Bellatrix as she stomped up the stairs. "They're so annoying and boisterous and they always bother you and get in the way. I can't stand them sometimes! You're so lucky to have sisters!"

"Sisters can be annoying sometimes too, but I imagine it's better than having three brothers," she patted Plieone's back in comfort.

"Yeah," the littlest Rosier sighed. "Oh, there are the boys! Quick, let's stick with them so we can all sit together!" The pair of girls ran to the boys in question, screaming a thank you to Evan and Hugo while escaping, their trunks jerking through the air behind them.

"OIIII!!"

That was the battle-cry heard as the tiny little red head sprung herself onto Walden's unsuspecting back. Unfortunately for Rodolphus, who stood opposite of the young MacNair, her trunk mimicked the motion, and sailed straight into his chest. Bellatrix simply watched in amusement as the second year crumpled to the floor in pain, twitching beneath her friend's suitcase. Then, just as it looked like he might recover, she plopped her own suitcase down on top of it.

"Hello, hello, how're you guys? Excited?" Bellatrix smiled, shining with glee and excitement, but it was debatable whether it was the holidays that made her smile, or making poor Rodolphus Lestrange miserable.

"Alright, I guess," Lucius replied with a shrug.

Walden muttered his assent, pulling Pleione into a piggy back so she didn't fall off and hurt herself: "Good, I s'pose."

"That's good," chirped the shortest of the group, happily mooching off of Walden's mobility. The males nodded, all except Rodolphus, of course, who was still rather crushed under two very large and very heavy trunks. The train screeched its warning whistle loud and clear, and students who weren't already on board scurried in to find compartments.

"We'd better go, then," Bellatrix said, sighing with resignation. Regretfully, she levitated the trunks off of her annoying admirer and onto the train, with Pleione skipping behind her. The three boys trailed along after them, not even bothering to look for a compartment.

"I don't see any empty spaces, guys!" Pleione called back, worriedly.

"Look for Avery," Lucius drawled. "We told him to find us an empty compartment and keep it empty, and if it isn't, he knows what'll happen." He and Walden snickered to themselves, shooting each other looks.

The red head crinkled her brows and frowned, but it wasn't as if her male friends could see her. "It's not very nice that you pick on Avery like that. He's got enough problems as it is, you know."

"Survival of the fittest, Plee!" Bellatrix shrugged. "If he can't defend himself against the predators in the Slytherin house, then he'll just be a trampled victim: a follower. Avery always has been the type to take orders."

"He'd lick my feet if I told him too," Rodolphus sniggered.

"If he didn't pass out from the stench first," Walden shot out, smirking. The five of them laughed, and finally came to their compartment near the back of the train. The group stowed their luggage away in the racks above, making sure nothing was loose, before plopping down into their seats, ending up somewhat squished between each other. The train pulled out from the station with a lurch, the whistle screaming again as the machine creaked, groaned, and rumbled itself up to speed. The little group sat in silence for a bit, relatively calm (all except for Avery, who was quivering, as per usual).

"So," Pleione ventured, "is Narcissa still studying dance with Madame Dolohov?"

Bellatrix nodded. "Yeah, she still does ballet and stuff. She's expanding to singing and instruments, too. We've managed to miss her recital though, thank god. Those things can drag on forever!"

The red head squirmed in her seat, trying to find a better spot. "I like watching recitals. I think they're nice."

"Wanna go in my place next year?" Bella offered, smiling. "I'd be more than happy to let you watch a bunch of boys in tights and girls in tutus."

"I don't want to deprive you of the joy of art," Pleione said, smirking. "It'd be terrible if you missed out."

"You're terrible, you know that?" Bellatrix grumbled, crossing her arms and slouching into her seat. "You got me all excited, got my hopes up, and now you've ruined all my expectations. Why do I even have a friend like you?"

"Because I'm perfect, that's why!" the youngest Rosier scoffed, as if this was clearly the most obvious answer. Bella only chuckled in response, snuggling down into her robes to escape the December chill.

"Lucius, I expect you're coming to my house, right?" she drawled, her eyes flicking to her long time friend. He nodded an affirmative, chewing thoughtfully on a licorice wand, watching the snowy landscape drift by. Hills were blanketed with white and shining with the hard crust of a morning frost. The trees were barren, all except the pines, which towered with robust, jolly energy, laughing in the face of the elements. Every bough of every tree, shrub, or sapling was weighted down with snow and icicles, shining like natures own prisms in the blinding light of winter. It was an altogether beautiful scene, disturbed only by the motions of the winter wildlife, sniffing about for any trace of greenery. All too soon, however, the painting became slightly grayer with the soot and dirt of cities, and small towns (muggle and wizarding alike) stormed the frame. Then, like the ultimate disappointment, the train began to slow, with that familiar huffing, churning and squeaking. As soon as it had begun, it had ended. The peculiar little group had arrived at platform nine and three quarters.

Rodolphus was the first to stand, stretching slowly, with a smile on his face. "Time to get up, everyone, wakeywakey!" He was swiftly silenced with a 'petrificus totalus'. One by one, the rest of the group stirred, lethargically gathering their things together before unloading from the train. The four stepped off into snowflakes sifting down gently upon their heads and shoulders, with the throng of other returning students, many of whom stuck out their tongues to catch the falling snow. But, such was not fit conduct for a Black.

"Well..," said Plee, toeing the snow. "I'll see you over vacation, yeah?" Her brothers stood behind her impatiently, slowly pulling her away.

"Yeah, course," Bella gave her friend a quick hug. "If I don't see you tomorrow, I'll see you during the Gala." Pleione nodded happily waving enthusiastically as her brothers carted her off to find their parents. "Now you guys are going home first, right? Then to our manor for Narcissa's party and all?"

The two boys nodded, and both began to leave, searching for their parents.

"No wait!" she stopped them suddenly. "What about Rodolphus?! We left him on the compartment floor!"

Lucius shrugged, attempting to soothe his irritated eagle owl, who wasn't exactly thrilled with the weather. "Someone'll find him. If not, I suspect he'll end up back at school, yeah?" Bellatrix considered this for a moment, then nodded, her brief moment of worry faded. Malfoy sighed impatiently. "Look, I have to go. My father's waiting here somewhere, and he's not partial to snow. Plus, we have to get ready for your sister's birthday. I'll see you in an hour or so." He drifted off between the crowd, leaving Walden and Bellatrix.

Walden shrugged. "See you in an hour, yeah?"

"Yeah," she sighed, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Walden before searching out her own parents. Though she would never admit it to anyone, Bellatrix Black had been rather homesick. She missed her parents, her sister, her cousins, even Andy, and she was rather excited to see them again. Unfortunately, she was somewhat disappointed to see that only her father had come to pick her up.

"Hello my little pumpkin!" Cygnus said with a smile, sweeping his eldest up into a bone-crushing hug. "All ready to come home again?"

"Of course," the little brunette smiled, gathering all her things together. "Where are mum, and Cissa, and Andy?"

"Your mother's getting your sisters ready for Narcissa's party. All set sugar pea?" Bella nodded, and with a pop of an apparition, they were gone.


	8. Birthday Jenga and Gallantry

Well, I would thank my reviewers, but I didn't have any on this chapter, so thank you charlemagnebrat1, for adding this story to your alerts

Well, I would thank my reviewers, but I didn't have any on this chapter, so thank you_** charlemagnebrat1,**_ for adding this story to your alerts. Any kind of feed back is appreciated.

* * *

After a few seconds of that uncomfortable sensation of being yanked like a rag-doll, Walden had arrived at his humble home, the Greenwood House. Though his ancestors had called it a house for the sake of modesty, it was rather far from it, with three floors, fifty-six bedrooms, and enough chimneys for a gun-powder factory. While it didn't match the extravagance of the Black or Malfoy manors, he rather liked it that way. It was cozy.

He and his father, William MacNair, stepped into the foyer, handing off their snow-dusted coats to two happily waiting house elves. Apart from this small routine, however, they were greeted by a minor hurricane.

In the MacNair family, there were six. There were the parents, Dahlia and William Sr., naturally. But, when they'd made the decision to have children, they decided to go above and beyond the call of duty, and raise four little ones, all of them sons. First, there was William Jr., then Thomas, then Louis, and last, Walden. Currently, the three elder brothers were busy making a ruckus.

"Give it back, you filthy blood-traitor!"

"Mum! Did you hear what he just called me?!"

"You deserve his anger; he doesn't know where your filthy little hands may have been."

"No one asked you!"

"Boys, can you please settle down, I'm trying to- Thomas! You will put down that candelabra right this **instant**!"

"But mum-!"

"Listen to your mother," William Sr. interjected, throwing Thomas a look. Sulkily, he put the candelabra down where it belonged, but still fixed Louis with a murderous glare. He all but threw a leather-bound tome back to his younger brother, before stalking off.

Walden ventured out of the foyer, poking his head out, meekly. "Hi mum."

"Oh!" she squealed, scurrying over in her deadly stiletto shoes. "My baby's here! How was school, darling? Do you like it?" He nodded, hugging his mother briefly, greeting his brothers in a similar fashion. Dahlia took this time to re-adjust her chocolate brown robes, and fix her thick black curls. "Well, go upstairs and change. I've laid out some robes for you, and I'll be up in a minute or two to fix you for little Narcissa's birthday." Walden nodded, and headed upstairs, sans protest. He had almost made it without incident, until _he_ showed up.

"Hey Wally," Thomas ventured with a smile, his hazel eyes twinkling with happiness. With a quick hug and a ruffle of his hair, he stood back. "How're you?"

He loved Thomas, he really did. Thomas had been the first person to really introduce him to exotic creatures, to show him his passion. He'd been the first to shove a beater's bat in his hand and teach him how to hit. But, he was also the first person in several centuries to ruin a MacNair tradition of pristine bloodlines. He'd set tongues wagging about their family. He put distance between himself and Lucius, between himself and Bellatrix. The decision was clear.

"…Please don't touch me, Thomas. I'm going to a pure-blood affair; I can't afford for you to taint me with your filth."

The hurt, the sense of betrayal, was palpable. He could smell it in the air, see it in his brothers watery eyes. Surprisingly, he even felt it slide down his own cheek, and tasted it when it reached his chapped, red lips. If you were wondering, betrayal has that familiar bite of salt, reminiscent of the sea. Likewise, you can easily drown in it.

"Very well." His voice was shaking. "Send my regards. And if you ever want to be my brother again, you can let me know. My room is down the hall." He left without a word, but his shuddering shoulders said it all. Walden watched him go, and heard the door shut with a soft click. H rubbed his eyes furiously, and hurried into his own room, slamming the door behind him. He'd just cried! How pathetic was that!

He made his way over to his rather large bed, pulling a set of dark blue robes off of it and changing into them, haphazardly. Then, he flopped onto his bed, disturbing the leaf-green comforter as he mulled over the recent set of events.

The door flew open with a swish, and his mother shuffled in, her heels made silent on the cream carpeting. "Walden dear, come on, get up, it's time to get ready."

He stood and faced his mother, and let her take care of all the finer points of his appearance. She steamed his robes, brushed his hair, freshened his face, and clipped his nails, then stood back to admire her work. It seemed like she was going to say something, but then-

"Mum… Would it be alright for you and me to go to Thomas's wedding?" She gaped at him in that sort of 'you've lost it' fashion. "Not everyone has to go, Louis and Will can stay, it's just that I'd like to go. I mean, he's my brother, and she's only a half-blood, and no one important is going to show up anyway. Please Mum?"

She sighed heavily, her little red lips twisted into a frown. "Darling, I would love to see Thomas get married, you know that. He's my son. It's just that… It's not the way things work, you know?" Her eyes swirled with a wistful sort of sadness, the kind of sadness mothers often bear.

"Why not?" Walden insisted, fidgeting as his mother adjusted his collar.

"Walden, honey," she sighed. "When you live a life like ours, there is a certain price that must be paid. It may be emotional, mental, physical, personal… It is different for everyone."

"What was your price?"

"Many things. My son, my family, my chances, my identity. There are many things one gives up in this pureblood life. You'll learn that as you age." She was silent for a moment, dusting herself off, checking her appearance one last time before leading Walden down the hall to the family lounge. She grabbed a box, wrapped in powder-blue wrapping paper with white-silk ribbons. Then, she tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the flames, stepped in with her son, and said confidently- "Black Manor!" In a flurry of green flames and ash, they were whisked away.

Now, Walden wasn't exactly partial to Floo travel, either. It felt rather like being stuck under raging water. He much preferred a broomstick, a hippogriff, or an aethenon. Even apparition was better than the floo. But, he didn't have much time to mull over his dislike. The swirling was coming to a halt, and slowly, things were coming into focus.

They had arrived in the massive fireplace of the Black parlor. The structure itself was huge, big enough to fit a muggle car in. According to Bella, family myth said that Blacks of olden days had burned muggle children alive in it. The room it was placed in, however, made the fireplace look like it belonged to a gnome. In fact, the room was gargantuan. The ceilings were at least fifty feet high, and the room itself was probably ten thousand square feet. The floors were white marble, spotted with area rugs and antique furniture. Windows that spanned the entire wall, ceiling to floor, were dressed in yards and yards of Grecian drapes, colored with an olive hue, at present. But, despite all the splendor of the room, all the obvious wealth, and all the care taken to cleanliness and décor, one fixture of the room out-did all the others.

Madame Black was waiting for them outside the hearth, smiling pleasantly. She was absolutely beautiful, a veela, in fact. She had platinum blonde hair, spun into a swirling mountain of ringlets, pinned carefully on her head. Her body was slender, with curves in all the right places, and her skin seemed to be made of silk. Her lips were small, cupid-bowed, and full, of a rich rose hue; her cheek bones were high but not haughty, and her cheeks were always flushed to just the perfect degree. Sapphires seemed captured in her almond-shaped eyes, twinkling with laughter and happiness, and framed by long, dark lashes. She offered his mother a dainty hand to help her out of the fireplace, and as the two made small talk, the lady of the house smiled a perfectly white, perfectly straight smile.

"And 'ow are you, Walden?" He snapped out of staring and flushed, embarrassed.

"Fine, Mrs. Black, thanks for asking," he muttered, scratching the back of his head nervously. She smiled affectionately, and gestured to an open door on the opposite side of the room.

"Bellatrix and Narcissa are in ze next room, along with ze other children. Go ahead, if you like." He nodded and hurried away, still blushing like mad. Bella's mother was a knock-out, that was for sure. It was hard to imagine her having kids at all!

He sidled into the room, and was greeted by Pleione and Bellatrix almost immediately. "Miss me that much?" he smirked. The brunette snarled, crumpling her aubergine robes in her fists to keep from smacking him (which would have been very unladylike, of course).

"Just need to cling to you until Roddy gets here. Otherwise _they_ might get me." She gestured to a large group of boys, mostly their age, clustering around Narcissa, giving her well-wishes, making small talk, and so on. Currently, the poor little blonde looked both overwhelmed and subtly irritated. Her cousin Sirius and his friend James were doing their best to try and shoo them away, but to no avail. Walden shrugged.

"S'not my problem if they bother you. You should be honored. You could have the likes of Charles Avery, Michael Wilkes, Antonin Dolohov, and Gregory Goyle swooning over you," he said, snickering.

Pleione smiled her eyes flitting over to the group. "Well, I might not mind Antonin," she muttered, grinning wickedly. For some bizarre reason, Walden found himself highly uncomfortable with that remark.

"Hold on," he said. "Gotta go put her gift down. Maybe vomit in the plants while I'm at it." He made his way to the gift table, which was piled high with various boxes, bags, baskets, envelopes, and other lumpy, odd-shaped parcels. He rather suspected this would be a difficult operation, like pulling on the block you just know is going to topple the tower in Jenga. Carefully, he lifted a large rectangle that supported one end of the pile, and shoved his gift in before dropping the other gifts on top and backing away. Satisfied that he hadn't caused the collapse, he turned away to go back to the group, only to nearly knock over Rodolphus.

"Hey mate," Rod grinned, shaking his hand firmly before shoving an envelope into the pile. "Long time no see."

"Yeah," Walden laughed. "Last time I saw you, you were paralyzed on the compartment floor."

Lucius sighed, levitating his gifts to the top of the pile. "Yeah, unfortunately, some prefect saw him on the way out and helped him. What a pity." Walden watched Lucius's parcels tilt precariously on the Mount Everest of gift wrap and ribbons.

"Your one box is the biggest of the bunch, Luke. What'd you get her?" Rodolphus asked.

"Can't tell," he replied, looking thoroughly satisfied. "It's a surprise. What'd you two get her?"

"I got her a book on all the different dragons: on their habitats, how they came to be, and what individuals of the breed are famous for," Walden said, shrugging. "It seems like a good book. What'd you get her, Rod?"

"Three acres of land that extend the property closer to the sea. I figured with the dragon business, she may need more room and all. My parents thought of it."

The other two nodded to themselves, scanning the room, looking at what was going on. "I'll be right back; looks like Rabastan is going to make a mess," Rodolphus said, jogging over to the snack table. This was true. Currently, the youngest Lestrange was trying to get himself a drink. But, being only five, instead, he was nearly spilling the punch bowl on himself.

Once Rodolphus had left them, Lucius nodded over to the small mob hounding the youngest Black sister. "What's all that about?"

Walden shrugged. "Dunno. Her guests, I suppose."

"She looks more annoyed than happy. Think I should go get her?"

"What, be the knight in shining armor or something?" The darker of the duo rolled his eyes. "You're not the type, Mal."

Lucius practically bristled. Sort of like an offended cockatiel, really. "What, you don't think I'm gallant enough?!"

"More like you don't have a gallant bone in your body."

"Oh _really_?! I'll show you, then!"

And so, hilarity ensues.


	9. Napoleon, King of Cream!

Thanks so much angelle and boxter, for reviewing

Thanks so much **angelle **and **boxter**, for reviewing! Two reviews on one chapter is like, the most I've ever gotten. O

_Angelle_, your questions shall be answered. )

_Boxter_, I wasn't directing that note towards you specifically. I was just upset with everyone; I can see how many people read the chapters, but to have at least fifty or more read each week and get no reviews is disheartening. It makes me wonder at the quality of my writing. And as far as exams go, I have APs this week. I don't know if you have APs, finals, or whatever, but good luck. Chapters will be here to read when you return. I'll miss your feedback. )

Also, thank you **Trixiebell**, for adding this story to your favorites list. I'm honored. )

Now, **to all my readers**: I was considering either doing a follow-up piece with the next generation (ie: Nineteen Years Later) after I conclude Dark Waters (which isn't close to finishing, don't worry!), or running this story through until that point. Let me know what you think or if you'd read.

As always, read, enjoy, and review!

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From her vantage point, Narcissa could sort of see the ripple in the crowd. In a normal fluid body, a ripple is caused by a pebble, a rock, or even a fish that's a little peckish. This, however, was not a fluid body, exactly. This was a mob. And so, the pebble wasn't so much a pebble as it was one very tall, very outraged boy: one Lucius Malfoy.

"Hey Lucius!" She smiled, relieved.

"Hey." He kissed her offered hand, irritated by being surrounded. But, he had vastly improved the situation. With his presence, the rest of the group went silent. Then again, who would speak when being faced with a very tall, very rich, and very angry pureblood? Not many. In fact, none that were present, at the moment. He leaned forward and glared at the nearest boy at hand, sneering. The scrappy little red head pushed himself out of the way, and scampered back into the safety of the crowd. A jiggling boy with red cheeks did the same, as did a shy little blond. After several more of these reactions, Lucius cleared the crowd, Narcissa's hand clenched in his as he dragged her behind him.

"You're hurting me, you're hurting me, owowOWWWWW!"

He quickly let go of her hand, rolling his eyes. "Two minutes and you're yelling at me. Haven't even really said hello, and you're yelling. Really now."

The blonde huffed, hugging him briefly before pulling back and sticking out her tongue.

Lucius pushed his nose up in the air, the picture of offended. "That's not very nice. Maybe I'll just stop writing you about Hogwarts then, and you can make it all on your own. I'll just laugh as you get stuck in the stairs, fall in the Vanishing Cabinet, blow up your cauldron-"

"Like you did, you mean?" Bellatrix butted in, cackling. Narcissa, however, looked horrified.

Before she could say anything, however, Walden cut her off. "So what's all this for anyway? Why all the boys? Every pureblood kid and his brother is here."

Narcissa shrugged. "It's my primary exhibition."

Both boys gave her a blank stare.

"An exhibition is a way to put a young woman out in society. It helps her sort of make a name for herself and let everyone know who she is and all that stuff," she sighed, as if this was quite obvious.

"…Why?" Walden blinked.

"So everyone respects you and likes you." She played with her loose ringlets and rolled her eyes, as if she was obviously too good for that sort of thing.

"Then why didn't I get one?" Lucius demanded, seeming quite affronted that he hadn't gotten such an affair.

"Because they're only for girls, stupid!" Bellatrix scoffed, flicking her bangs away from her eyes.

"Why's that? What if a guy wants to have an 'exhibition'?" Rodolphus jumped in now, quite intrigued with the whole concept.

"Because most boys don't want to be surrounded by a whole bunch of other boys, breathing all over them and stuttering and making idiots of themselves," Bellatrix snapped, pinching Rodolphus' arm for good measure.

"Ow!"

"…Ohhh, I get it. It's a marriage thing, then," Lucius stated, crossing his arms smugly. "Suppose you should get back to your company then, 'Cissy."

She merely wrinkled her nose in response, wriggling further into the circle. "Don't think so. They're awful! Simply awful! Wilkes, Weasley, Avery, Goyle- Nobody important or interesting or even halfway decent!" Walden and Lucius both looked rather miffed. "It's terrible!"

"Yes, I can imagine, having to surrounding yourself with the likes of us. How simply terrible for you," Lucius sneered.

"Oh please, stop being a drama queen!" Pleione rolled her eyes. "She doesn't mean it that way, you ape."

"How should I know? Maybe she's just a really good actress-"

"Can you stop talking about me like I'm not here? I am present you know, and it's rather-"

"E-Ex-Ex-Excuse me, N-Nar-Narcissa? I w-was wondering i-if I c-could sp-sp-speak t-to you?" Somehow, in the midst of everything, Charles Avery, quivering at record speed, had worked up the nerve to approach the little group. That in itself was surprising, but for him to be able to actually work up enough nerve to talk to a _female_ was even more astounding. Then again, by the look of him, he was competing for the world championship in twitching, and he looked so petrified it seemed as if he might need a new pair of robes soon.

Just looking at the poor boy, Narcissa felt a twinge of sympathy. He looked like spooked horse that was tethered down, as if he was simply dying to run away. She opened her mouth to agree, and was about to offer her hand, but she simply didn't move fast enough.

Lucius sneered down at the dark haired, dark eyed, stuttering mess that was Charles Avery. "What do you want, Avery? Want to stutter the night away with her? Don't bother, moron." He punctuated this with a firm shove, one that left little, delicate Charles sprawling on the floor.

Narcissa pushed the Malfoy heir furiously, face contorted in anger. "What is the matter with you? Can't you leave anybody alone, you big bully?!" Where she had shoved him, his dress robes were burned straight through to the shirt underneath, in the shape of little handprints.

"Children, zere is no need for violence." Mrs. Black swept in, and glared slightly at the two. With a twitch of her wand, Lucius' scorched robe was pulled over his head and draped over Madame Black's arm. "And I do not approve of _zis_, young lady. Lucius, zee 'ouse elves will 'ave zem fixed in no time. You must forgive my Narcissa; 'er veela temper simply gets zee best of 'er."

She snapped her fingers, and several house eves popped into being, wielding several trays of various finger foods. There were sweet, succulent dates wrapped in bacon, beautiful fruit sculptures, flaky spinach puffs seeping with butter, thick scallops sautéed to perfection, and sun-dried tomatoes that smelled like villas in Tuscany, sandwiched with fresh mozzarella as white as the moon. Scents drifted through the air, tantalizing children and adults alike, promising experiences that might be better than heaven.

As the guests sampled the cooking, parents drifted in. Fathers spoke in hushed tones to their sons, mothers socialized, boys chatted and grabbed tid-bits of food off passing trays, munching joyfully. Narcissa, however, was being steered through the crowd by her mother, introducing herself to family after family, curtsying into eternity, and smiling until her cheeks ached. Two boys, however, were not very happy with this situation.

"I don't like this at all," Lucius muttered, and bit into the crisp shell on a cube of seared tuna, his frown momentarily dissolved into an expression of bliss.

"Why?" Walden thoughtfully chewed a fresh napoleon, the icing dripping over the sides.

"She's being all cutesy. That's not her at all." He picked a butterfly fried shrimp off a passing tray and popped it into his mouth.

"Well, you know how things are, mate. We all make sacrifices in this life. My mum just said that today, actually."

"Yeah, but still. It's not right, you know? It's like she's lying to all of them," he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

A house elf cracked into existence next to him, offering a folded pile of burgundy. "Mister Malfoy, your robes is fixed, sir!" He nodded, taking them and slipping them on before dismissing the house elf.

Meanwhile, Abraxas Malfoy, Cygnus Black, and William MacNair Senior were talking jovially, with plenty of hand motions, pats on the back and laughing. Occasionally, they would glance over at their progeny, or gesture towards a particular one of them, but other than that, there was nothing truly unusual. One of the boys might have thought more of it, if they hadn't been interrupted.

"'Ello Walden, Lucius. I 'ope you are enjoying zee hors d'oeuvres, and zee party," Mrs. Black smiled at them with her perfect teeth, practically glowing in the soft, warm lighting. Both boys nodded, bowing to the lady of the house. "Now, you obviously know Narcissa, yes?"

The youngest of their little group swept over, her powder-blue dress robes trailing slightly behind her. She curtsied delicately, her smile as perfect as her mothers. In fact, with the two beside each other, the resemblance was quite striking. Narcissa offered her hand to each boy, who kissed it in turn, as was proper. Radiating pride, her mother swept away to chat with Dahlia. "So, are you two still enjoying my birthday?" the youngest Black asked, her smile still pinned in place.

"More than you are, probably," Walden responded cheerfully, crunching down on yet another napoleon. "Did your mum make these? They're delicious!"

She nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "There are some things my mum doesn't trust house elves with, and cooking is one of them. I think the only time she doesn't cook herself is when it's just my family eating, or if it's a big banquet, but even so, she's the grand overseer."

"When's cake and presents?" Lucius asked.

"When everyone leaves," Narcissa grumbled, flipping her hair.

"When's that?" Walden nicked yet _another _napoleon.

"Seven."

"Oh, fantastic."


	10. Lace, Silk, and Pearls

Just about three hours later, the last of the guests were being waved farewell, and disappearing into the swirling green flames of the floo

Sorry this took so long everyone, I had finals and such. But, here it is. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Just about three hours later, the last of the guests were being waved farewell, and disappearing into the swirling green flames of the floo. Once the last tendril of Arnold Wilkes' hair vanished, Narcissa exhaled and relaxed, looking utterly drained. Her mother smiled down on her youngest fondly, patting her on the shoulder. "You did wonderful, ma cherié."

"Couldn't have done better, pet," her father swept her up into a bone-crushing hug, his indigo eyes twinkling.

"Put me downnnn!" She squirmed, uncomfortable and embarrassed, afraid one of her friends would see her being babied. "I just turned ten dad, don't you remember? I'm not a little girl anymore, you know!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake," he chuckled. "How could I not see it? You look so much older now, honey." She wrinkled her nose, sensing the humor. "But, seeing as you're not a little girl, I guess there's no need for all that cake and all those presents. Women don't much like birthday parties."

"Yes I do!" She panicked, eyes wide.

"Then I guess you'll just have to stay my little girl, huh?"

She sighed, defeated. "I guess so." They returned to the parlor, to their true friends. Mr. and Mrs. MacNair sat together on a loveseat by the fire, exchanging little quips of conversation while keeping an eye trained on the children. Walden was still nibbling away on her mother's napoleons as Rodolphus kept a firm hand on Rabastan's shoulder and bickered with Lucius. Sirius was smirking and Regulus was crying as their mother, Walburga, hissed at them in indignation. Pleione was watching Bellatrix-

"DON'T TOUCH MY CAKE!"

Her elder sister whipped her hand back, quite surprised, and the cake was left untouched in all its butter-cream glory. It was petite, meant only for a few; with three tiny layers in a cylinder shaped like a red clay pot, and a daffodil sculpted from white chocolate was springing from the cookie crumbled 'dirt'. Narcissa's smile could've lit the room all by itself. Madame Black cut the cake in perfect slivers, and handed them out for everyone to eat how and where they pleased. The youngsters (except Andromeda, of course) settled on and around a settee near a window, eating their cake between chatting.

"So, what do you think all your presents are worth?" Pleione asked.

"I dunno," Narcissa shrugged. "On average, you mean? Or put all together?"

"All together," she responded, nicking some of Walden's cake when he wasn't paying attention.

"I don't really know. Probably a good eight-thousand galleons, if I had to guess." Lucius snorted into the icing, and she glared. "More, then?" He nodded. "I suppose we'll have to find out." She delicately placed down her dish and stood, dress robes swishing as she reseated herself in a large armchair by the fireplace, and beckoned to a house elf. In that moment, the resemblance to her mother was startling. "Bring me my gifts, please. One by one." The elf nodded, and hurried of to retrieve the first package. Her father settled into a chair beside her, his indigo eyes twinkling as he took out a quill and roll of parchment, and her mother perched on his armrest.

The first gift arrived, in all its pink, frilly glory. Narcissa read the tag with disdain. "Parkinson." She ripped off the paper, revealing a set of vintage makeup, with rouge held in scallop shells and mother-of-pearl cases, all packed in delicate French lace, in a teak wood chest. She sneered: "Makeup? What are they trying to say?" She took each piece of makeup and hurled it into the fire, one by one, and then handed the chest and lace off to the house elf. "The lace is quite nice, and the chest is an antique. Put it in my bedroom, and I'll use the lace for my sewing." The little elf nodded, and hurried off, while another brought the birthday girl a different box.

This one was a soft mint green, with a white bow, made of silk. The blonde girl eyed it carefully, flicking ringlets from her eyes. "Very tasteful. From the Rosiers." Her mother muttered her approval to her father as he finished his notes on the Parkinson gift (as all such things must be recorded, for future reference). The Rosiers were a French family, as many of the old stock were, and they held close to the traditions of their mother country, as did Madame Black. Pleione watched Narcissa carefully from the settee as she unwrapped the box. Inside was a long necklace of black Tahitian pearls, each one the size of a marble, and perfectly round. Her mother marveled at it and muttered to Cygnus in soft, hurried French, as he took notes in his impeccable script. Abraxas Malfoy paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the gift. Narcissa, however, was too busy gaping to notice. "This is lovely." She carefully placed it back in its silk bed, and put the cover on the box. "To my room, please." The elf nodded, and was gone.

More and more boxes arrived, in a caravan of colors, shapes, and sizes. Almost every wizarding name imaginable was on one or more of the boxes: Wilkes, Avery, Lestrange, Nott, Goyle, Crabbe, MacNair, Dolohov, Longbottom, Borgin, Jugson, Weasley, Burke, Yaxley, Lovegood, Rowle, Potter, Carrow, Karkaroff, Gibbon, Mulciber, Rookwood, Prewett, and of course-

"The Malfoys," she grinned. "Well, let's see what we've got." Placed in front of the little blonde was not one, not two, but three boxes, in varying sizes and shapes. She took the smallest box first, wrapped in cerulean blue paper and demure gray ribbons, made of silk. She unwrapped it gently and gasped at the contents. Lucius, who was leaning over the back of her chair, smirked. Narcissa carefully took the present from the box, and revealed carat after carat of flawless white diamond, in a twenty-two inch long tennis necklace. Cygnus took notes, his expression shielded, but the look on his wife's face made up for it. Narcissa turned to Lucius, floored. "T-this is lovely. Thank you so much!"

"Don't thank me yet, open the next one," he said, bobbing back and forth on the balls of his feet. She took up the next box, this one slightly bigger, wrapped in sapphire blue paper with a silver, silk ribbon. Upon opening this one, she pulled out a heavy golden locket, the front of which bore a swirling 'S', formed in beautiful, bright emeralds. On this one, Cygnus and Abraxas both seemed shocked, while Narcissa seemed puzzled. "It's a locket that used to belong to Salazar Slytherin. It's one of his only surviving heirlooms," Lucius explained.

She blinked for a moment, stunned. "Where could you even find this?"

He shrugged, smiling. "My secret. Open the last one."

This one was the largest by far, wrapped in gleaming black paper with a white ribbon. She opened it slowly, and inside was-

"Is this what I think it is?" she breathed, her eyes wide with excitement as she peered into the box.

"Depends. What do you think it is?" Lucius grinned, nearly laughing.

"A dragon egg," she smiled gleefully, turning back to him.

"Well, yes and no. It's _actually_ a Hebridean Black egg, one that's almost guaranteed female by the breeder."

She squealed in glee, jumped up and hurried around the chair to clamp him in a hug. "Oh Lucius this is wonderful! Thank you so much!" The boy laughed, patting her on the back somewhat awkwardly. Meanwhile, Cygnus finished up his notes, and his wife continued to whisper to him in inaudible (but obviously excited) French. Abraxas looked on from the left of the fireplace, smiling for once instead of smirking, and the MacNairs observed with the somewhat awkward air of one who is pretending to be happy when they're actually quite irritated.

"Tippy, bring all this to my room please, and start a fire in the grate right away! I want it roaring by the time I go to sleep!" The house elf nodded, grabbed the packages, and hurried off. Narcissa was still beaming. "Lucius, Mr. Malfoy, I really can't thank you enough! The presents were all so lovely and thoughtful!"

"Oh Narcissa, don't thank me, there's no need," Abraxas chuckled, his rumbling laugh shaking his whole body. "Lucius thought of all the gifts, found them, and retrieved them. All I did was provide the funds."

"Well Lucius, thank you very much. The gifts were all really spectacular, and the fact that you put so much effort into getting them makes them _so_ special."

"Oh, don't worry about it," he shrugged modestly. "Just remember, my birthday's in a few weeks."

"Well, don't expect me to out-do you," she smiled, putting her hands on her hips. "Consider yourself lucky if I show up to your lousy birthday."

"Of course," he said, bowing mockingly. "I would be honored if you deemed me _worthy_ enough to be in your presence."

"Well, I _might_ allow you to be in my presence around noon tomorrow, while I work with Charcoal. I already invited Walden," Narcissa grinned.

"Oh, so now I'm second on the list, huh?"

"No, I just got around to you second, that's all," she said.

"Alright then, I shall accept this invitation of yours," Lucius drew himself up, trying to act like the pompous lords of yore. "I deem it worthy of my time."

She giggled, leaning on the chair for support. "Sounds good. See you tomorrow for some dragon work, then. Don't dress in good clothes. In fact, some regular muggle clothing would be a good choice, if you have any."

He nodded, getting ready to go as his father bid Mr. and Mrs. Black goodnight. The MacNairs had already left, as had Walburga Black and her brood, and Pleione was staying overnight. "Alright," Lucius sighed. "See you tomorrow. Tell Pleione and your sister that I said goodnight."

"Yep," she nodded. "Night then."

"Night," he waved, as he and his father departed through the parlor fireplace, with whoosh of green.


	11. Bitten by Snow and Billywig

I didn't quite get to giving 'thank-you's last chapter because I was concentrating on trying to get it out as quick as possible, so I'll do them now

I didn't quite get to giving 'thank-you's last chapter because I was concentrating on trying to get it out as quick as possible, so I'll do them now.

Thanks to **Tina Chui**, for putting me on your alerts. I appreciate your interest and you taking the time to read my humble fanfiction.

Thanks to **Fire-ice2010**, for favoriting me. It make me feel fuzzy inside.

Thank you **boxter**, for both your reviews on chapters nine and ten, and thanks for the encouragement in the chapter nine review. I feel better when I look at the reads I get every time I post a new chapter, but really some outright comments feel the best. When people take the time out to actually tell me what they think, it makes me feel all fuzzy inside. And as far as updates are concerned, I try to keep them as regular as possible and churn them out once a week. Maybe throw in a few bonus chapters too, when I'm really excited to write.

Also, thanks to **angelle**, for both reviews on nine and ten. I really appreciate that you take the time out to read all my authors notes and reply to all of them with what you think; you and boxter are my readers scope: you two help me figure out what the other readers want (well, hopefully at least). I'm really thinking heavily on the 'Nineteen Years Later' story, and it's a definite possibility. I'm feeling out the plot for now, and once I have 'Of Dark Waters' laid out in stone and I know for certain exactly what I want to happen and exactly how it should happen, I'll begin work on that story (which is, as of yet, untitled). Also, thanks for the encouragement for my exams; I think I did really well. I hope so, at least.

Also, accomplishment: With the posting of the last chapter, I got the most hits I've ever gotten in one chapter post: 224. I feel pretty accomplished. I just hope no one clicked it on accident or something. /

As always, read, review, and enjoy.

* * *

It was December twenty-third, and it was snowing.

Lucius Malfoy currently was sitting up under his silk sheets and coverlet, watching the snow thoughtfully. He squirmed over to the side of his bed, looking down at an Italian greyhound curled up on the floor. "Look Hermes, it's snowing," he whispered. The little creature lifted its head, looking up at him with thoughtful blue eyes, and then looked out the window. It stared for a moment, and proceeded to curl back up and sleep. Lucius snorted. "You're no fun."

He hopped out of bed, careful not to step on one of his dogs. Dogs were really his one muggle vice; the young Malfoy used them for hunting, and as companions. He found them to be fascinating: loyal, trainable, affectionate, and unique. Spaniels retrieved water fowl, West Highland Terriers were for hunting fox or badger, Italian Mastiffs for big game hunting and guarding… Yes, dogs had purpose the second they were conceived, because they were born for something. Personally, he thought breeding dogs was the only worthwhile thing muggles did.

He got dressed in the muggle clothes requested by Narcissa and washed his face and hands before consulting the clock, which declared that it was eleven-fifteen. "C'mon Hermes," he called. The little greyhound exited and Lucius followed, shutting the door behind him, and made for the dining room.

The room was beautiful, with huge, pointed windows and an inlaid, gilded ceiling. Above him, a mural moved magically, portraying the journey of magic. It showed the Norman nomads on their magic-improved ships traveling all over the world at high speeds; colonizing in Greenland and Newfoundland, settling in the north of France, conquering England. It showed the splits in magical society, the witch hunts that killed thousands, and the building of magical schools. It showed the formation of the Knights of Walpurgis, the birth of the wizarding monarchy, and its evolution into the ministry of magic. All in all the painting was quite beautiful, and very interesting. But, Lucius couldn't be bothered to look at it at the moment; he was too busy enjoying a plate of eggs, toast, and half a pomegranate. Though he was engrossed in his breakfast, he felt more then heard his father enter.

"Good morning, Lucius." Abraxas sat at the head of the table, and smiled briefly at his son. Then, he sneered. "What're you wearing those awful muggle clothes for?"

"Narcissa asked me to," he responded, swallowing a mouthful of egg. "She said she'd like me to meet her dragon today."

"Mmm," his father nodded, drinking a gulp of his tea. "You did well yesterday; I was impressed. I'm glad you followed my advice on the more traditional gift, but even I was floored with Salazar's locket. The Blacks are probably ecstatic." Lucius nodded, continuing to eat. "I imagine you have it secured, Lucius. Just stay at the head of the pack and continue to impress, and you might make yourself a very good match."

"I don't want to marry her though," he muttered, peeling all the skin away from the fruit. "She's one of my best friends."

Abraxas chuckled, stirring some sugar in his oatmeal. "Let me assure you, Lucius, your feelings will change when you get older."

"How would you know?" His son made a face, spitting a pip into a napkin.

"Just trust me Lucius, it happens to everyone. One day, you'll wake-up, and everything will be different."

The little boy shrugged and got up, leaving his dishes for the house elves. "I have to go. It's probably around noon now." His father nodded and shooed him away as a large, black owl swept in, delivering the Daily Prophet.

Lucius went by floo, stumbling out into the Black flooing foyer he'd arrived in the previous evening. A little house elf greeted him, bobbing about happily. "Mister Malfoy is here to see Miss Narcissa, yes?" He nodded. "Right this way, sir." The first year trailed after the elf as it guided him outside and wound him down several footpaths. Just as he might have been getting a little impatient, the elf turned to him and bowed. "Tippy must leave you here, sir. Miss Narcissa will see to you now."

Before he could even utter a protest, 'Tippy' was gone, and Lucius was left alone.

"Narcissa?" he called out, stepping forward cautiously. Had you asked him later, he never would have admitted to being afraid. At best, he would have said he was unnerved, but since the youngest Malfoy didn't even know that word, he wouldn't admit to anything. And if you had questioned his slightly trembling hands, he would've said it was the cold. "Narcissa?"

crrrrac-c-c-ckkkk!

The youth jumped, looking about frantically. That wasn't any twig; that was a tree limb. He'd heard rumors of all sorts of terrible creatures living on the Black estate, but never before had he felt himself truly wondering if those rumors were valid. "Narcissa?!"

No sound answered him. No hushed giggle, no light footstep crunching on snow, no nothing. But a certain sight made itself known. Poking from between tree trunks was a huge, magnificent head. Covered in black scales and boasting small horns, the skull alone had to be at least four feet across, if not more. Deep indigo eyes assessed him with a wisdom and knowingness far beyond that which any human has ever known, and deep below were hints of violence and threats and blood. It was beautiful, but deadly. Calculating, cunning, and very intelligent. Its manner even bordered on regal.

"You must be Charcoal." He reached out to pet the creature's snout, but was rebuffed with a snort of super-heated sulfuric gas. Lucius stumbled backwards coughing, eyes watering, trying to save his throat that felt as if it was on fire.

"That wasn't very smart, Lucy." Narcissa stepped out from between the dragons legs, grinning. Lucius only sputtered in response. "Dragons are like people; better even. How would you like it if someone reached out to pet your face?"

"I-it's an animal! All animals like their faces touched!" he coughed, trying desperately to open his eyes normally.

She crossed her arms and glared, as the dreaded beast growled above her. "He's not an animal Lucius. He's just like you and me. He understands things even better than we do. I'm telling you; he's more intelligent than you think, and he deserves more respect from you!"

Now that they'd stopped watering enough to do so, he rolled his eyes. "Sorry, sorry." He nodded to the dragon, for good measure. "Sorry to you too." The gargantuan reptile seemed to nod back, in a show of acceptance. Narcissa seemed pleased enough.

"C'mon, follow me!" She smiled, running off into the trees. Lucius quickly followed, knowing that if he didn't, he'd be left to fend for himself against whatever else might be hiding out amongst the brush.

After several minutes of sprinting beside the littlest Black and her big, lumbering beast, Lucius was beginning to wonder what exactly they were supposed to be doing. She's said that he was here to get acquainted with her animals, but why did they need to run to get to know some modern dinosaurs? It simply didn't make any sense!

Quite suddenly, he found himself running alone.

He stopped and whipped around, only to find Narcissa rolling around in the snow laughing, and her dragon seemed to smirk as much as he possibly could. "What're you doing?!"

"I-I'm sorry!" she choked out between giggles. "It was just so f-funny! We stopped, and you just- just went along! Decided to go your own way!" She slowly calmed down, and wiped a few tears of laughter away from her eyes. "S-sorry. It was just funny." She still stood there, though, grinning, hands on her hips. Her hair was askew and snow stuck to her heavy blonde braid. Her cheeks were bitten to a rosy red, both from the laughter and the snow, and her whirling blue eyes seemed to glitter. For a moment, Lucius found himself struck by how pretty she was, and felt both uncomfortable and glorified being in her presence. It was an odd combination, one that seemed to leave him with an affliction similar to being stung by a billywig. He felt giddy, fluttery and altogether off. When it comes to emotions, Lucius has never been the most verbose.

"Are you alright?"

He blinked for a moment and shook his head. "Yeah, sorry, fine. Just sort of went off in my own thoughts for a moment, that's all."

"So I noticed. I said that I was tired of running and I'd rather walk. Is that okay with you?" He nodded dimly. "Good. Let's go, then." She led him down a small path to the left, one that was slightly better kept. This lead to a clearing, in which there was a little brick building. It seemed meek, with rose colored bricks and a slate roof, but it was slightly off in that it had double doors made of some kind of magical metal, and though there were spaces for them, there were no windows, despite the cold. Narcissa ran over and Lucius followed behind, still working over exactly what this new feeling could be. Charcoal simply lay down outside, preparing to nap.

"C'mon!" She pulled open the doors and shoved him in, and it became very apparent why there were no windows. In the room were several hearths, all blazing. One held a darkened orb that appeared to be-

"Is that the egg I gave you?" he asked, pulling out of his trance.

"Mmhmm. Put it in last night. This is my hatchery," she smiled, as if she was quite happy to be announcing it. "Let's go see my other hatchlings." She led him up a set of spiral stair in the center of the room to a second story of the building. On the floor was a pair of dragons that seemed to be playing, but with dragons one could never be too sure.

"Aren't they beautiful?" If he was to answer honestly, Lucius would say he couldn't really tell the difference, but he responded as she was expecting him to.

"Of course; they're wonderful."

He was rewarded with a smile that was so excited and sincere, he almost couldn't bear it. "Oh, thank you. I sort of wanted you to get a chance to be hands on with them, but I don't want anything to happen to either of us, considering the Gala's tomorrow. Wanna go back to the house for tea instead?"

Yes, at the moment, tea sounded fantastic.


	12. Vivid

Thanks to boxter, angelle, and Amrei for their reviews!

Also, thanks to Amrei for putting me on your alerts; and yes, it does seem that even Malfoys are wrong now and then.

Thanks to all my other readers, for reading. )

Read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

The two enjoyed the tea quietly, swinging their legs back and forth. There wasn't much sound aside from the clinking of spoons on porcelain and the quiet crunching of biscuits. They were in the east parlor, a room normally used for the spring or summer. Through the wider windows, they could clearly see Charcoal outside, curled up sleeping.

"He's pretty," Lucius offered, breaking the silence.

"Yes, he is," she smiled affectionately. The two lapsed into silence once more, leaving Lucius utterly frustrated with the complete lack of conversational ease. Less than an hour ago, he'd been quite an adept conversationist. After his disturbing realization of Narcissa's gender, he could barely think of a word to say.

"So, what'd your parents think of my gifts?"

She shrugged. "They loved them, of course. Very impressed and all. Said you were so sweet and thoughtful and all that stuff. But, they were also rather impressed with Evan Rosier's gift, as you saw."

He sneered. "Evan Rosier is five years older than you; don't you think that's a little odd?"

"Of course I do," she shrugged. "But my parents don't. They keep saying 'Oh, five years is nothing in the long run!' I don't really care for him, though. Pleione and I are so close, it would be rather weird."

"Yeah…," he trailed off, grabbing an almond biscotti and dipping it in his tea. "I suppose." He quickly suppressed the strong satisfaction that was welling up in him, taking a particularly vicious bite from the cookie.

"But, let's not talk about that. It really gets me annoyed." She said, brow furrowed, adding a bit more honey to her tea.

"Why?" Lucius cocked an eyebrow.

"Because," she frowned. "It's my primary exhibition. In three years time, I'll have my secondary, and in another three, it'll be my cotillion. Then I'll be pushed off to god knows who to date, and if I say no when he proposes, it'll be some horrible shame. So really, in six years or so, I'll be engaged to be married. Awful. Awful, awful, awful!"

He nodded. "I can see how that would be sort of upsetting."

Narcissa nodded adamantly. "It's terrible!"

"Well," he said tentatively. "Six years is a long way away. If you don't think about it, you'll have more fun, and when it comes around, it won't be as bad, 'cause you'll have had fun. Besides, maybe the guy won't be so bad."

Narcissa looked absolutely scandalized. "L-long way away? Not so bad?!" she sputtered, her face reddening slightly in anger. "Lucius, do you have any idea? Any at all?! Six years can fly by! Six years is the blink of an eye, especially when you never want it to end! Six years spent trying to forget won't fix anything!"

"Well I was just saying-"

"And not so bad? Are you _stupid_?! Half those boys at my exhibition were either losers who would never get me or brutes that kill animals for fun and think of women as their property! Do you honestly think that if I was married to Yaxley, he wouldn't beat me? Or Mulciber?"

He shrunk back from her anger, sinking slowly below the table. "no…"

"Exactly," she exhaled sharply, calming slightly. They sat in silence for several minutes, and Lucius regarded her carefully, as if she was ready to explode. Slowly, she returned to her normal color, and sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you or anything…"

"S'okay," he muttered, now thoroughly over it and sucking on a sugar cube.

"It's just that it's scary and unfair, and everything about it is wrong," she sulked. Lucius nodded in agreement, regarding her from over the edge of his teacup.

"Well, either way, six years isn't as quick as you make it out to be." The clock promptly struck six.

"Well, did this seem like six hours?" She smirked.

"No," he frowned. "But still-"

"Time is time," she grinned. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Probably not. I didn't ask my father about it or anything," he shrugged, putting his tea down and hopping off his chair, while Narcissa did the same.

"So I'll walk you the foyer, then, because it's about time for us to eat."

The two made their way to the flooing foyer, and Narcissa bade him goodbye.

* * *

The next day, Lucius discovered Narcissa had been quite right about that whole 'time' dilemma.

This morning, it had seemed like he had all the time in the world to get ready for the annual Winter Gala. But suddenly it was less than an hour 'till he and his family had to arrive at Black Manor, and Lucius wasn't even dressed!

Now normally his mother would've henpecked him into being ready, but she hadn't been feeling too well as of late. She'd caught some sort of virus last week, and still hadn't gotten over it, so to be lively for the Gala, she'd spent most of the day sleeping or trying to keep some kind of food down. His father had spent most of the morning and the early afternoon traveling to apothecaries to try and find a remedy for his wife, and was now readying himself.

So, Lucius had been left to his own devices, and what had he gotten?

Well, for starters, there were two ruined dress robes, some scuffed shoes, a pair of ripped trousers, and a smoldering shirt he'd left in his bathtub. And that wasn't even the worst of it.

Now, he'd resorted to having the house elves ready him, and while it was embarrassing, they were certainly more efficient at it than he was. He was already appropriately scrubbed, his hair combed, his hands clean, and his robes impeccable, and they were just putting the clasps on his cuffs and tying his shoes when there was a knock on the door.

"Lucius? Are you ready dear? It's time to go," his mother called from the hallway.

"Coming!" He shook the house elves off and hurried out as they disappeared with a quiet pop.

"You look nice, sweetie," his mother smiled at him affectionately, smoothing out some would-be wrinkles on his black robes with a wave of her wand. Lucius had to admit, whatever his father had picked up for her, she seemed loads better. The luster had returned to her hair, the color had come back to her cheeks, and seemed much less tired. She did, however, still look rather thin in her emerald gown.

"You do too, mum," he said quietly.

"Well, are we ready, Morgana?" Abraxas asked. She smiled, eyes twinkling, as she mockingly surveyed her husband and child.

"Well, I _suppose_ you're up to par," she laughed and pecked her husband on the cheek. "Let's go. Grab my hand, Lucius."

He complied, and closed his eyes during the cross-dimensional sensation that was apparition.

With a pop, the family appeared in the apparition foyer of the Black Manor, and was greeted warmly by Proteus Black, his wife Walburga, and their two sons. Abraxas smiled warmly at the man, giving him a firm handshake. Only the manner in which his other hand twitched slightly betrayed his unease. It hadn't escaped Lucius or Morgana's notice. Proteus Black was quite well known to be a man of few words, but the words he did speak were either necessary to avoid offending his company, or heavy with meaning. One always had to consider the implications of his words, both because of his wisdom, and because it was a well-kept secret that Proteus was gifted with the sight.

"Proteus! Such a pleasure to see you! And you as well, Walburga," he kissed the woman's hand lightly, as was expected. The two boys both bowed to the Malfoys, though the elder looked rather sullen about doing so.

"You as well, Abraxas."

"Walburga, Proteus, lovely to see you," Morgana offered her hand to be kissed by Proteus and raised by Walburga, which she did with an air of sullenness (as doing so was a concession of lower status).

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Black," Lucius bowed. "Hello Sirius, Reggie." Sirius eyed him with a look of anger mixed with distaste, but Reggie smiled in the innocent manner that five year-olds do and waved.

"I'm not 'posed to hug people," he whispered. "'Cause mummy said its not 'propriate. But I missed you when you was at school." The youngest Malfoy couldn't help but smile. Regulus was always such a sweet, easy child.

"Missed you too, Reggie. I'll see you inside, alright?" The boy nodded happily, and Lucius followed his family into the ballroom.

"I never liked talking to Proteus," he heard his father mutter from ahead. "Too smart for his own good. Too gifted. It feels like he's looking right through you!"

"Relax, it's not as if he's out to get you. His gifts might unnerve you, but he's a good man. He's a friend, Abraxas."

"I know that; all I'm saying is that he's much too gifted in the sight for his own good. Did you know he made prophecies about-"

Then their talk grew too quiet for Lucius to eavesdrop on, which left him rather deflated. Just as it was getting interesting. The doors swung open and ushered the family into a huge ballroom that overwhelmed every sense.

First, sight- The room was huge, big enough to comfortably fit several hundred dancers at once, with walls that stretched on into eternity, before hitting a magnificent ceiling, depicting the full Black Family tree, dating back to the first known Viking raid in 787, complete with portraits. The whole thing was done in precious stones and metals. Tendrils of gold curl down the walls to turn up into magnificent arms to hold several crystal chandeliers all round the room (because obscuring the vision of their lineage would be unthinkable). Dancers and minglers swirl about, chatting and cavorting in every fabric, every color, every gem that existed.

Sound- Voices, everywhere, but most notable is a choir of sirens who sing for the opening. Behind them, a full orchestra is preparing to take the stage for the dance, instruments clunking and chairs scraping as they do so. People are laughing, talking. Glasses clink in toasts and money changes hands to pay for debts as well as friendships. Gossip hisses in whispers between guests. Rendezvous are arranged. This is, after all, a social event.

Smell and taste seem to go together- Perfume of various odors mingles in the air sweetly, the dulcet tones hanging over the crowd in a floating cloud. The strong, smooth smell of liquor permeates the air, but even the liquor does note take precedence to the delicate senses of the nose. Food, food everywhere. Buttery pastries, artfully arranged vegetables, seared meats, rich chocolates and creams! In the corner is an eight-foot high fruit sculpture, made to look like a Christmas tree! There's an ice sculpture of Grindlewald, and a huge cake that is a model of the Palace of Versailles, complete with sculpted buttercream hedges, koi ponds, and mazes! Everything is miraculous!

Touch- everything is so amazing, to the eye, to the nose, to the mouth, that it seems like one is hallucinating, and while one sees, one touches. Everything is so alive, so lovely, so beautiful, so vivid! Vivid like the stars against a black sky, vivid like fresh snow, vivid like a masterpiece, vivid like Narcissa Black!

"Good evening, Lucius. I hope you're enjoying yourself?"


	13. Foolish Potters and Foolish Mad Men

I apologize to all my readers for not updating, I got a new computer after a few rounds with a nasty trojan, and then I just couldn't bring myself to write again. But, better really late than never; here's chapter thirteen.

* * *

The Malfoy heir smirked slightly, scooping up the pale, delicate hand of one Narcissa Black and bringing it to his lips. "Well, I don't know about _enjoying_ myself," he teased. "I've only just arrived. Besides which, we've done this same song-and-dance for nearly sixteen years, and the only thing that ever changes is the menu and the décor. However, I daresay that if you choose to grace me with your presence, I may be able to deem it just bearable." She rolled her eyes, pulling her hand from his grasp.

"Oh, just bearable? Well, if that's how you feel, you're always free to leave," she smiled playfully. "Besides which, more changes than the menu and décor, I resent that comment immensely. The guest list does as well, and the entertainment, and my dress, and-"

Lucius chuckled. "You know I was just joking, stop. If I didn't want to be here, I'd just fake sick and show up to your cotillion in a few days time."

Narcissa looked scandalized. "Had you missed my family's Gala, I might've removed you from my guest list," she sniffed. "It's a very exclusive event, you know. The biggest on the Pureblood social calendar this year." She was visibly puffed with pride and barely contained excitement.

"You act as if I don't have the privilege of being invited to every event on the social calendar," he rolled his eyes. "You know, I don't always make my appointments. What, with being immersed in the world of wizarding politics, I don't always have time for everyone. Of course, you wouldn't understand, you haven't even graduated yet. But still, don't be surprised if I don't make it."

"Listen, Mister Malfoy, I know for a fact that you told all of the Wizengamot that you were dreadfully ill just to skive off and celebrate my sixteenth birthday on the correct date, so it's quite obvious that I'm rather high on your priorities list," she smiled sweetly. "-as I should be."

He frowned, shaking his head. "And how do you know that, my dear Miss Black?"

"A little bird told me."

"Was the bird's name Walden or Pleione, perhaps?" he pried.

"Perhaps," she smirked.

"You, my dear, are far too nosey. I believe that this invasion of privacy can only be remedied with a dance." He held out his hand for her, waiting.

Her pale blue eyes twinkled brighter than the crystal of the chandeliers. "The first dance at the last Winter Gala before my cotillion? You'll set the gossips into talking, you know," she tutted, slipping her tiny hand into his awaiting palm.

"The gossips will talk regardless; they always have when it comes to me," he grinned. The tall blonde led his dainty companion onto the dance floor, his dress shoes clicking along with her high-heels, the train of her sparkling, silver gown trailing gracefully behind her. Lucius signaled the orchestra to strike up a medium pace waltz, and shifted Narcissa into the proper position.

"Well, according to _Witch Weekly_, you're the most eligible bachelor of the wizarding world," the nymph-like blonde smiled, resting her hand delicately on his shoulder.

Lucius grimaced. "Do you really read that rag? It's unbearable!"

"No, but clearly you do, seeing as you have such strong opinions about it." She twitched her head slightly, flicking a dangling curl from her updo away from her face.

"Too perceptive for your own good," he muttered as he led her in a rather showy step. "You look lovely tonight, by the way; I forgot to tell you. Those dress robes fall well on you."

Indeed, they did. They were made of a beautiful, silk material that draped just so across Narcissa's already abundant womanly curves, showcasing her perfect figure while keeping a proper level of modesty for a young woman of her station. Having just turned of age, the robes also added a little sex appeal, with a low-cut back to show off her lean, delicate shoulders. It completely lacked any ruffles or frills that might distract from the mesmerizing image the youngest Black sister made, and was accented simply with a diamond cuff on her wrist and a beautiful Grecian updo, dotted with white orchids.

Her rosy cupid-bow lips turned up in a secret smile. "Why thank you. A distinguished gentleman had them hand-crafted specifically for me by Signora Peruzzo in Milan. Isn't that lovely?" Lucius smiled and nodded. He had been the distinguished gentleman, and his robes for the night were crafted to compliment her own.

While they whirled and turned around the dance floor, whispers raged like wildfire, the entire congregation focusing on them (of course, while trying to make it look like they weren't concerned, naturally). All of the sudden, another couple joined them on the floor, making the whispers even _more_ excited.

Walden and Pleione swirled close to them, grinning. "Evening, mate," Walden called. "Seemed as if the tension was getting to be a little much, so I thought I'd join you, maybe start a trend or something." Narcissa giggled, and Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes, you've helped _immensely_," he said sarcastically. "Now it's four of the most watched pureblooded youths together. Where did your logic come in?"

Pleione laughed, her tumbling red tresses swinging with her midnight blue robes to Walden's movements. "Oh stop, Luc. He doesn't mean harm, you know that. And Cissa, I love your dress robes, they look lovely on you! Wherever did you get them?" she asked playfully, her eyes twinkled knowingly.

"Yes, I imagine whoever designed them had to know quite a bit about your form to get those drapes just so," Bellatrix chimed in suggestively, as she and Rodolphus whirled by, snickering.

"Mind out of the gutter Bella; c'mon at least make an effort!" Walden chuckled. Narcissa pouted, part serious and part playful. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Do any of you have any comprehension of basic logic? More high profile people makes more gossip; it doesn't divide the existing gossip equally. I'm disgraced to deem you dolts my friends, honestly," Malfoy grumbled, flicking his bangs away from his eyes.

"Oh no, Lucy's going to throw a hissy-fit!" Bellatrix sniggered. "Run for cover before he starts to throw a Malfoy tantrum."

"At least when I throw a tantrum I don't 'avada kedavra' the nearest house elf," he sneered. "That's just childish."

Bella sniffed daintily. "House elves are property, and I'll do what I please with them when I please to. The creatures have it coming to them; they're so disgusting in the first place. I think we should enslave mudbloods instead, at least they aren't _always_ ugly and foul-smelling."

"Just most of the time," Rodolphus chimed in with a barking laugh. The waltz closed, the partners pulled away from each other, bowing and curtseying respectfully. Lucius and Walden each handed their partners off to their men-in-waiting (James Potter and Arnold Wilkes, respectively) before leaving the dance floor, only to be bombarded.

"Lucius Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you! It's been such a long time!" A short, rotund brunette man seized Lucius's hand, his ruddy, red face beaming with the smarmy, hopeful look of someone who hopes to better themselves by elbow-rubbing with the upper class. "I read all about your success in the Prophet of course, but I haven't been able to speak to you since the Saint Mungo's charity benefit dinner in August! I heard about your close on the purchase of Gringotts; fantastic! Biggest corporate merger this year, that is!"

"Thank you, Cornelius," the blonde smiled, his expression cordial, but shielded. "Hopefully things will go as well as they promise to. I'm looking to increase the security on the vaults to make them truly impenetrable and more attractive to foreign interest. The resulting prophet will be as good for my pocketbook as it is for the Ministry's foreign relations. Speaking of which, how's the campaign going? Well, I assume?"

The little man mopped his brow for a moment, still beaming. "As well as can be expected. We can only hope that things go in our favor, you know?"

"Of course, Mr. Fudge. You have our full support, so long as we have yours," Lucius smirked. "You understand my meaning, of course?"

"Crystal clear, Lucius, crystal clear," he said, laughing anxiously. "Well, must be going, have to make my rounds before going back to the campaign grindstone. Have a good evening, gentlemen!" He then hurried off, his legs doing the fast-paced waddle that belongs to a nervous fat man.

Walden snatched two champagne flutes off a passing tray, passing one to his blonde friend. "You're terrible, Mal, you know that? He's not even Minister yet and already you're terrorizing him. Let the man get into office first."

"Why not get a head start? The early bird catches the worm, after all. Cheers, mate." The two toasted, sniggering into the bubbling wine. "Let's go see the hot hor d'oeuvres, I'm feeling peckish."

The pair made their way towards a life-size Abraxan stallion, made entirely of various pastries, steaming with heat and delicious aromas. A house elf handed them each a small plate with a smattering of different pastries on them, bowing before hurrying back to work.

After some thoughtful chewing on a potato croquette, Lucius turned to Walden. "You know, I'm really quite surprised the Potters are even here." He gestured towards James twirling Narcissa in the center of the dance floor. "I mean, even overlooking the fact that they're in favor of allowing mudbloods seats in the House of Commons, or that they took in Narcissa's ex-cousin after he was blasted off the family tree, which are two _huge_ things to overlook; if we're to believe the weekly rags, James has been courting a mudblood for most of the year."

"You can't believe everything they say in the rag, you and I both know that, Luc," Walden shrugged. "Give the man a chance. If he's not serious, then he'll make it apparent. Besides, even the Potters need connections. Blood stays with blood, and I'm sure they're not stupid enough to try and trust-fall into the arms of mudbloods and halfbreeds."

Lucius arched a blonde eyebrow. "In case you weren't aware, Walden, the Potters aren't the brightest in the bunch. They've never made good alliances when they've had the chance; I'd even dare to say that they enjoy putting themselves at risk. They've managed to pick the worst friends and the best enemies."

The brunette shrugged, unwrapping a scallop from its prosciutto casing. "Now, I wouldn't say _that_. My family's not hostile towards the Potters, and clearly the Blacks aren't either. Does your dad have a bone to pick with them?"

"My father has a bone to pick with everybody."

"Nice try avoiding the question, mate."

"The press has made me very good at that sort of thing," the young Malfoy smirked.

"So this is where you two went off to! Dodging company as always, eh?" Rodolphus cut towards them, the burgundy and black brocade of his dress robes billowing slightly, giving him the appearance of an old world vampire. "Have you heard about the special guest coming to little Cissy's cotillion?" The two shrugged non-committally. Rodolphus leaned in, whispering excitedly. "There's a wizard coming; calls himself Lord Voldemort, fancies himself the best dark wizard of the age. He claims to be a parseltongue, and the last true descendent of Salazar Slytherin. He's looking for allies and funds to start an uprising."

"What kind of uprising?" Walden questioned coolly, shielding his expression.

"He wants to unite the purebloods against the dirty blood below us, and make things as they used to be: when the upper class was the ruling class. The Ministry would be full of purebloods: a pureblooded minister, no House of Commons, no muggle relations department, none of that trash! And if we accomplish that, he's been in talks with the upper circle about a coup d'etat on the muggle world." Lucius snorted into a glass of brandy.

"If he thinks he can do that, he's nothing but a mad man. The muggle world is massive, and while we have magic, they have the advantage of numbers. We don't need any new age witch hunts, Rod. There's not enough of us as it is."

"Mal, you don't understand, he could do it! He's got amazing ability!"

The blonde's stare could've withered a devils snare. "I don't care how amazing he may be, I won't put my life, finances, and public reputation on the line for someone who is clearly out of their head. If you join him, Rodolphus, you're just as stupid and crazy as he is. Keep your head out of the clouds and your hands out of the fire, or you'll find yourself burned."


	14. Something Wicked

Oh hey, another update! Miracle of miracles!

* * *

"Daddy! DADDY!"

The yell was angry, panicked, and shrill.

"DADDY!"

Similar to the squawk of an extremely offended bird. However, one wouldn't be very far off with that description.

"DADDDDDDDYYYYY-!"

"What, Narcissa, what?! What is it, what's wrong? What do you _need_?" Cygnus Black stormed into the sewing room, throwing the double doors open, his manner speaking of being a hassled father ill-prepared to handle the daughters derived from his reckless loins.

"What I _need_ is a better seamstress!" Narcissa snarled, her face looking unusually avian as she flung a pile of burning fabric on top of the guest seamstress, who screamed in terror as she stumbled back from the raging Black progeny.

"Narcissa, dear, please! You're being unreasonable!" The Black patriarch cried out despairingly as the seamstress fled the room sobbing, her red hair burned into a fragile crisp. The half veela sneered in disdain as the portly young woman ran.

"I'm being unreasonable? This is the second most important dress in my life; second only to my wedding gown, and _I'm_ being unreasonable?! That woman is a hag! I don't care how pristine her blood is; she clearly knows nothing of pureblood fashions!" The blonde flung a fist of fire at the pure white carpet, setting it smoldering and charring it with black.

"Narcissa, this carpet was just replaced after your sister's cotillion fitting, is it really necessary to be so destructive?" Cygnus said exasperatedly, sliding into an arm chair by the fireplace.

"I'll be as destructive as I like!" she growled, setting the curtains alight for good measure. "My cotillion is in two days, and I don't have a dress!"

Cygnus threw his hands up helplessly. "I don't know what to tell you dear, what do you want me to do? Do you want a portkey to Paris in the morning? I can have it arranged."

"No! I'm the most beautiful, most powerful, most wealthy, young pureblood on the market; I will not have an off-the-rack dress at my cotillion: that's out of the question!"

"So I'll get you a portkey to Peruzzo's shop in Milan instead," the older man rubbed his temples.

"I just wore Perruzzo's to the Gala; it won't do!" she whined, pulling at her hair in frustration.

"So whomever the hip designer is in Florence, Venice, Paris, Moscow, Madrid, Tokyo, New York; I don't care! Whoever you need, I'll pay them to make a house call, I'll get you a portkey, I'll send you by international floo; whatever your little heart desires! Just tell me what you want, pumpkin!"

"I want fame! I want power, I want opulence! I want pearls from the Caribbean seas, emeralds from Columbia, diamonds from the Canary Islands, and sapphires the size of my fist! I want perfection! I want to be envied, to be desired! Some fat, pregnant, ginger little nothing won't give me that!"

"Then who will, princess?" Cygnus asked desperately. "Who will?! Just say the word, and I promise you you'll have your dress by tomorrow! All I need is a name!"

She sighed, frustrated. "Daddy, you have good taste and good discretion. All of the measurements you could possibly need are on that parchment-," she gestured. "I want dresses to pick from by the time I wake up tomorrow. I don't care if you give them time turners or what, but I want my dress tomorrow; I don't care what it takes." With that, the blonde left the room, dressing robe drawn tightly about her as she left for sleep.

Cygnus sighed despairingly, picking up the parchment with Narcissas measurements before trudging to the nearest hearth. "To Onassis Design, New York," he sighed, whisked away in a swirl of green smoke; the first trip of many to be made that night.

* * *

Sunlight poked cautiously through the sapphire sheers that decked a certain blonde's windows. It crept slowly, stealthily, carefully over the white marble floors, across the cream plaster, and finally set slowly upon the bed. It slid over yards and yards of cream and bronze coverlet, trekked over mountains of decorative pillows, trickled over a blonde braid, pale hands, a fair collarbone, and finally set upon a delicate, peaceful face.

Blue eyes snapped open.

So much for peaceful.

In a flurry of movement, Narcissa sat up and flung off her bedcovers, squiggling over to the side and jumping out of bed. With a flick of her hand she flung open the curtains fully and set a fire crackling in the grate. Cygnus started, nearly falling out of the arm chair he'd been dozing in. "Your dresses are in the sewing room, pumpkin…," he mumbled, settling back into the deep recesses of the chair.

"Thank you, Daddy," Narcissa skipped across the marble, setting a kiss upon her fathers cheek. He smiled wearily, snuggling down into the cushion. Another motion summoned a throw to her, which she wrapped about her father before dashing out.

Narcissa felt giddy with glee and anticipation, practically skipping down the hall and up two flights of stairs before throwing the doors to her sewing room open with a bang. And at the sight before her, all anger, frustration, and anxiety vanished, and her breath drew in with an audible gasp. Lithe, tiny feet crossed the carpet slowly, and her pale fingers brushed over the dress in question. As soon as she set her eyes upon it, she just knew that it was _the_ dress. The perfect dress. This was the only dress she'd seen that she knew would be elegant, tasteful, beautiful, and most of all, befitting of the one and only Narcissa Persephone Black. Now there was nothing to worry about. Her cotillion would surely be the social event of the year for all of society to attend.

_And the after party… Well, there won't be words to describe it._

She smiled wickedly and dashed away to sketch out designs for her hair as well as an outfit for her private after party. She was a Black, after all. There are very few things in life that a Black isn't the best in, and Narcissa was making damn sure that throwing the biggest celebrations and looking the best were included on the long list of Black superiority.

* * *

_Well… Tonight's the night._

The only fair-haired Black sister stood perfectly still, elevated on a small circular podium that was levitating gently off the ground. She was spinning slowly and steadily, half a dozen seamstresses doing last minute, final-fitting details. Jacqueline Onassis herself surveyed the activity, her foot tapping impatiently as her wand swished through the air, moving fabric about for pinning, trimming, or embellishing. Narcissa recalled vaguely that she was married to some wealthy, powerful politician in the states. She wracked her brain to try and gather the name- John something. Something Irish. O'Kennan? Kently? Kennigan? Something with a 'k'. But no matter, no time to worry over foreign politicians. This was her night, her cotillion, her formal entrance into society as the beautiful, graceful debutante and socialite she had been raised to be. She smiled to herself, nerves apparent to everyone in the room.

Miss Onassis laughed beautifully. "Narcissa my dear, relax. You're going to look lovely once you're ready. There aren't very many women who have looks to compete with yours, dear, and as far as designers and hairstylists, you have the best money can buy." Jacqueline smiled calmly. "You will be fine, I assure you. And if there's a single woman out there who looks even half as lovely as you do, I'll hand in my shears. Stop worrying, darling. Just put those nerves away, put your head up, and smile: it's your night, make the most of it." She carefully lowered the podium, shooing her assistants away from the blonde as she inspected her critically.

"Spin," she demanded.

Narcissa spun.

"Beautiful," Jackie smiled warmly. "Just as I knew you'd look. Now, I need to change myself if I want to be ready on time. Off to a hairstylist with you; go!"

Narcissa's mother swept in, looking anxious and agitated, her hair whipping about. "Oh good, you 'ave feenished. Magnifique!" She smiled softly at the sight of her daughter, eyes welling up with tears. "Tu as très belle, ma cherie." She quickly dabbed at the corner of her eyes. "Now, off to do ze 'air. You know where to go. 'Urry up, zere is precious little time!" The blonde stepped off the pedestal slowly and gracefully, the train of her dress glimmering in her wake as she made her way to the vanity.

Jacqueline smiled softly at her as she left, with her mother not far behind. Then she regarded her seamstresses, her look more severe. "Well?" she arched one perfect brunette eyebrow. "What are you waiting for? I'm not known as a fashion-plate for nothing. Dress me, you idiots!"

* * *

The parlor doors opened gently before her, and the people in the room drew breath with an audible gasp. Servants and stylists who had been busying about all came to an abrupt halt to stop and stare at the youngest Black. A few instruments and potions fell to the ground, and mouths stood agape. "Mi-miss Black… You look marvelous already."

Narcissa smirked, flipping her long, straight hair over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, did you expect anything less?" She sauntered over to the large vanity and carefully seated herself on the bench before the mirror. Instantly, an older with appeared behind her, and began straightening out her hair so it lay down her back.

"The sketch we agreed upon previously, correct Miss Black?" A parchment floated in front of Narcissa for her approval.

"Correct."

"Excellent," the stylist whipped out her wand, a smile on her face. "Let's get started, then."

* * *

Meanwhile, the party was just beginning to gear up. Guests were apparating just outside the wards of Black Estate, or arriving by carriage. A large staff of hired witches and wizards, all in black robes bearing the Black family crest, were taking care to open the carriage doors, welcome the guests, take the carriages away, and usher the guests through the gates and down the path to the mansion itself. The gates were open invitingly, soft ivy threaded through the ironwork with all kinds of pixies and faeries floating about, giggling softly in the cool winter night. The long path through the grounds was lit by faeries, bewitched hinky-punks, and floating torches. Strolling slowly along the edges of the path were Antipodean Opaleye dragon youths, released from Narcissa's breeding center for the evening. While most of the dragons she kept were markedly aggressive towards strangers, the youth tend to be smaller and less aggressive, and since the Opaleye is such a beautiful sight (what, with glittering white scales, jewel-like eyes, and a pure red flame jet), the family thought they would serve well as security for the event as well as impressive and unique decorations.

A jet of red flames hit the wards around the path keeping the dragons away from the guests and arched overhead, singeing some nearby branches. Even though the flames had been kept a good three feet away from them, the heat was intense. Walden shrieked, Lucius snickered, and an electric blue pixie giggled nastily and zoomed away.

The two had been allowed to arrive separately from their families, as they needed to make 'a more solid impression' on the Blacks. They were, after all, in formal pursuit of courting Narcissa, whether they liked it or not. "Stupid dragon…," Walden muttered. The pair arrived at the huge front doors, held open by two older wizards. The men smiled, bowing dutifully at the two guests as they passed through the entrance into the foyer. The pair made their way down the long hallway to the main ballroom, a journey that was all too familiar from the Winter Gala only days before. Before they knew it, they were before another set of doors, these ones the dark cherry wood doors to the ballroom. Two more servants smiled gently, opening the doors for them and allowing them into the festivities.

While traditionally the Winter Gala is the biggest social event the Blacks host each year, this had to be much bigger. It was the cotillion for their youngest daughter, and considering the disgrace Andromeda was, it needed to be mind-blowing. The ballroom was crowded with a virtual whos-who of the magical world- the current minister, campaign hopefuls, visiting heads of state with their translators and bodyguards, foreign socialites, supermodels, actors, singers, aristocracy, and a representatives of most of England's old money. Anyone who was anyone was in attendance. But before either of the two young wizards could take stock of much else, the clock struck nine, and the doors on the opposite side of the ballroom slowly opened.

In came Narcissa, who was without contest the most beautiful woman in the room. Necks practically snapped and camera bulbs flashed as everyone tried to get a good look. She was dressed in a body tight gown, one that hugged her in all the right places and flared out delicately around the knees in a trailing, three foot train. In the back, the gown was corseted with a chain made of gold and yellow sapphires, which was thin enough to show a generous expanse of creamy white back. But, more remarkable than the revealing back, or even Narcissa's lovely figure the dress unabashedly showed, was the utter extravagance. Every inch of fabric was covered in tiny little diamonds. The whole dress glittered, her whole body shining in the light, almost making her appear slicked with water. Her blonde hair was partially pinned into a delicately coifed and curled updo, speckled with precious gems cut into butterflies and flowers, bewitched to move. The rest of the blonde hair tumbled over one shoulder in soft, delicate curls. She smiled beautifully, proud and graceful and certainly the center of attention.

But something wasn't quite right.

"Who the hell is that?" Lucius muttered to his companion.

Rather than her father escorting her in, she was on another mans arm. He was tall, thin, and pale, dressed in entirely black dress robes. His dark brown hair was nearly black, and its soft waves were in a side part. His face was severe: sharp cheekbones, thin lips, pointed chin, a defined bony nose, and most notably, blood red eyes that just poured out despair and emptiness, as if there was no soul behind them. Something about him just bespoke death and destruction, of children screaming for their mothers, of monsters and predators and the big, bad wolf. Something about this man was terribly, terribly wrong.

"I told you he would be here!" Rodolphus whispered fanatically, suddenly just behind Lucius's shoulder. "That's him, the wizard I told you about! The Dark Lord Voldemort!"

_Something wicked, this way comes…_


	15. Into the Fire

Walden stayed silent, taking note of Rodolphus's words. Lucius seemed to do the same, grey eyes flicking quickly between Narcissa and this 'Lord Voldemort'. His brow furrowed slightly and he reached out mindlessly, snatching a champagne flute off of a passing tray, sipping at the bubbly liquid gently as he further analyzed the scene, apparently deep in thought. Walden nudged him gently, prodding him from his mental wanderings. "Luc, if you want that first waltz, I suggest you move quickly. The orchestra's going to start any second now, and then she's fair game." This seemed enough prodding for Malfoy: he jolted out of his thoughts with a start, passing off the champagne to Rodolphus and striding across the ballroom floor to where the lovely Miss Black and this so-called 'Dark Lord' stood.

"Narcissa-," he bent to kiss her hand, smiling at her gently from over her knuckles. "It's always a pleasure to see you, and even more so on such a wonderful occasion. I trust your birthday is going well?"

She smiled at him warmly, the orchestra beginning to tune for the upcoming waltz. "Yes, of course. Thank you for asking, Mr. Malfoy."

"And I don't believe we've met. Lucius Malfoy." He carefully released her hand and instead offered it to her escort. "And yourself?"

Lucius unexpectedly felt the smooth coolness of a Leglimens sifting through his mind. Had he been less aware of every eye in the room following his movements, he might have stumbled in surprise. The red eyes trickled over his face, then scanned his body. The thin lips turned upwards into something of an unpracticed smile. "No need for introductions, Lucius. Your name precedes you. I am known by many names, but for now, Lord Voldemort will do. But we shall talk later; for now, yes, you may borrow Miss Black for this waltz." The man swept away, with nothing less and nothing more said. Lucius slowly, mechanically took Narcissa's offered hand and swept her into position one as the waltz began, and lead her through the steps.

"Lucius?" Her voice snapped him out of his shock, her blue eyes questioning.

"Hm? Sorry, I was just thinking." He smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Yes, I noticed," she replied dryly, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Anything wrong?"

He paused. "Not wrong, per say. Do you know the fellow that escorted you?"

"Not well, no," she frowned. "He's an associate of my fathers, I believe. Someone he knows through my uncle Proteus, a sort of politician I think. He thinks rather highly of him, and he told me last minute that he'd asked to escort me in to my cotillion, and my father apparently thought it a fabulous idea. But I don't know much of him other than he's a Leglimens and has some special interest in Bellatrix and I."

Lucius raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Narcissa simply shrugged. "I have no idea, no one will tell me anything. I don't think Bella knows either. But he's asked about you, Walden, Pleione, and Reggie as well. A lot of our schoolmates, in fact. I don't know what his aim is, though."

Lucius nodded carefully. "Well," he paused; taking note of the other couples that had now joined them on the floor and lowering his voice. "I'll do my best to find something out. I have a feeling I'll be speaking with him some time this evening in any case. If I can pass anything on to you, I'll of course let you know."

"Lucius, be careful," she sighed. "He's dangerous; I can tell that much from the few conversations we've had. He's not the type you can bribe or intimidate or dispose of like you've done with all our other problems."

"Worried?" He smiled at her bemusedly.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, if you must know."

He chuckled, stepping away from her and bowing low to kiss her hand. "I shall do my very best to keep your necessary worry to a minimum, my dear. In the meantime, do enjoy your cotillion. I'll speak to you soon, I trust." He passed her hand to the next waiting pureblood, whom he didn't even bother to look at in his exit.

He returned to the edge of the dance floor, to the waiting Walden and Rodolphus. "Lovely dance, mate. It'll be all over the Prophet tomorrow." Walden smirked cheekily, gesturing to the press. Lucius nodded his agreement, grabbing another champagne flute. Rodolphus snatched it from his hands and put it back on the tray, sneering at the blonde.

"Enough with the bloody champagne; you're a man, drink like one. Let's get us some firewhiskey." Walden shrugged at Lucius, and the two followed Rodolphus's lead, weaving through the crowd to one of the four open bars. "Three double firewhiskies," he commanded, and then turned back to his companions. "It's about time we all get a good, stiff drink. I hate these things." He passed a glass each to his companions, a gentle steam wafting off the crystal tumblers.

"Trying to kill us, Rod?" Walden smirked, gently swirling the liquor in his tumbler.

"If only it were that easy," he smirked.

"Very funny," Malfoy said dryly.

"Anyway, a toast: to the beginning of a new chapter in our lives," Rodolphus raised his glass.

"Well, for one of us," Walden added, grinning at Lucius.

"No, you idiot," Rodolphus drew back his glass. "For _all_ of us. You saw the Dark Lord. This is his first reveal to society, to what will surely be his future allies. With him leading us, we shall surely rise to the top, to where we belong as the cream of the crop."

"We already are at the top, Rodolphus. Let's not be ignorant, now."

"No! No we aren't! Not just financially or real estate wise, or in the free market! Not even just in wizarding politics! In world politics! Over wizards and filthy mudbloods and muggles alike! The pure should be where they once were, as kings and queens, not as simple pawns on the playing field."

"Wouldn't we still be pawns under this Dark Lord of yours?" Walden interjected.

"Well, yes!" Rodolphus agreed hastily. "But only for a small time, until we reach our goal and find our rightful places in this world. Then we shall rule all we can see and much more!"

"I'm no one's pawn," Lucius muttered, staring into his firewhiskey.

"Now I'm not trying to bully you into joining-"

"You, bully us?" Walden snorted.

Rodolphus leveled a glare his way before continuing. "But the cause is just. We all believe in blood purity, we all believe muggles are inferior, and we all believe in the old ways. Why not fight for what we believe in?"

"Why not stay neutral and not risk our necks?"

"What are you, a coward?!"

"Sorry, I don't think I saw _you_ in Gryffindor for your bleeding-heart bravery either," Walden said with heavy sarcasm.

"Alright, fine. Don't join if you don't want to, but I'm just saying, we could all get a lot from being involved in this. Think of it as a long-term investment," said Rodolphus.

"An extremely high risk investment," Lucius muttered.

"And like all high-risk investments, if you manage to make things go your way, the benefits are always worth the time, effort, and money put into it."

There was a moment of silence while Lucius and Walden considered the truth in Rodolphus's words, wondering skeptically if perhaps their friend was on to something. But then, Rodolphus was never this smart or ambitious. He couldn't have been the first of them to discover the leader of this cause and immerse himself in it. That was totally unlikely.

Lucius smirked as he swirled his firewhiskey, staring into the depths. "This wasn't your idea, was it Rod?"

"I beg your pardon?" He sneered.

"Let's be honest: you were never particularly smart, loyal, brave, or ambitious. You wouldn't have found this out and sworn yourself to this cause, least of all without some advice or someone to do it with you. And since you haven't talked to us about it, there's really only one person I could think of that you would blindly follow into the fire…"

"Bellatrix," Walden caught on. "This is all Bella's idea. You're just doing her bidding again."

Rodolphus sputtered for a moment, caught off guard. "Wh-what?! Who says it has to be Bella's idea? Maybe I thought of all this myself."

Pale arms adorned with diamond cuffs slipped around his shoulders, gently squeezing. "Don't give yourself that much credit, dear."

"Well, well, well; look who decided to show up," Walden smirked.

Bellatrix sighed, circling around the stricken Rodolphus. "It's not as if I had an option to not show my face to the guests, however unappealing they may be. There are appearances to keep up, after all," she sniffed.

"I didn't know you cared for petty little things like appearances, Bel. How do you find the time between following some lunatic and leading Roddy here to his doom?" Lucius drawled, kissing her hand gently.

She frowned at him as Walden greeted her. "I'm doing no such thing, Lucius. Rodolphus is an independent thinker, he makes his own decisions-" MacNair snorted. "and I happen to agree with them. The Dark Lord is no lunatic; he is a visionary, ahead of his time, but not for long. You'll figure that out soon enough and make the best decision. In the meantime, I'll be sure to hold a place for you at his right hand until you've learned enough about him to come to your senses. Merlin knows he certainly did a lot of learning about you."

"What's that supposed to mean, Bella?"

"Nothing, nothing," she said airily, waving off his concern. "Or at least nothing that you won't find out soon enough. Come along, Rod. We have guests to greet, appearances to keep." She swept away with a smirk, Rodolphus on her arm.

"Ridiculous," Walden muttered. "She's absolutely ridiculous, telling Rod before us. We deserve to know before that dolt."

"Well," Lucius said thoughtfully. "He _is_ courting her. I mean with him putting up with her antics as much as he does, he's got to get something for his troubles. I know I certainly wouldn't put up with that coming from my betrothed."

"Narcissa isn't the same type of bitch as Bellatrix. She's a whole different sort of problem."

"I wouldn't call her that."

"Lord knows you wouldn't call her that. All you see in that girl is an angel with a heart of gold. Not the tricky, manipulative, scheming little demon Narcissa Black actually is."

"You act as if that isn't part of the package. She's a Black, not to mention a Slytherin. Do you expect her to be any different?" Malfoy smirked, arching a thin blonde eyebrow.

Walden laughed. "I guess not. Whatever. A toast, then."

"To?"

"New beginnings, new frontiers, the possibilities before us, great holidays and a better new year," the brunette raised his glass, smiling.

"Never knew you were such a poet, MacNair." Glasses clinked, the liquor drained.


End file.
